No, the artists who are involved in our wedding are mostly close friends, and are mostly professionals who are doing what they do as a part of the wedding. Our circle of professionals includes theatrical designers and managers, musicians, filmmakers, visual artists, choir directors, photographers. Not to mention Colin and I using our own professional skills — producing, composing/arranging, design, marketing and communications, etc. — as we’re planning the day.

I’m excited to give these artists a forum to work in; I’m excited that they’re giving us their best and that they’re highly trained and qualified for these jobs. I’m excited that we can expose some Calgary and area artists to an audience that may not otherwise know of them or know what they do — and trust me, as details are finalized and we know exactly what people are doing for us, we’ll be giving them all the free advertising we can manage.

We have a fantastic community of artists surrounding us, and we’d be foolish to not take advantage of the expertise and talent available.

In the past few days, I’ve been talking to my American friends and discovering how incomplete NBC’s coverage is: No live streamed coverage of most events, tape-delayed TV broadcasts of anything major, online access restricted to only customers of certain internet service providers.

And yet, on CTV’s website, there are no fewer than 20 separate streams available for viewing at all times, whether online-only streams of events, online viewing of one of their channels, or past events on demand. Everything is available all the time. Every sport, no matter how obscure, has equal ability to be watched live. CTV is not deciding for Canada that hockey and curling (the only sports streaming live on NBC’s website) are the only sports that need to be available in real time.

I’ve made no secret of the fact that I’m fairly fed up with how far behind Canada is in a lot of things. Cell phone plans and prices are atrocious and make me want to cry. Online shopping still sucks, since a far smaller percentage of Canadian stores or chains offer it (for instance, Wal-Mart and Canadian Tire only allow you to check inventory online, not actually make purchases), and if you do order from the U.S., shipping is often astronomical. I don’t know of a single Canadian ATM that’s as comprehensive and intuitive as the Bank of America ATM, where my cash deposits are credited within hours, instead of the 7-day waiting period that Scotia Bank forces me to endure. And I could go on…

But not in this. In this, it’s so nice to be vindicated; to see that for once, Canada is where we should be.

Nice going, NBC.

And minus the sarcasm, well done, CTV.

However, aside from the dampening of the day for the most obvious reason (and my heart just aches for the Georgian team and the Kumaritashvili family), there’s something that has been nagging at me for weeks. The more I hear of the controversy and ill-will surrounding the Games in Vancouver, the sadder it makes me. The Olympics in Calgary were such a great experience for the city — culturally, they put Calgary on the world stage, and the arts and culture (not to mention both amateur and professional sports) have flourished so much in the last 22 years due to the foundation laid by the Games — they seemed to draw the city together, not tear it apart.

I don’t know if those three Canadian artists would be where they are if it weren’t for the ’88 Olympics. My thoughts on the impact of the ’88 Games on the arts today are mostly speculative and I don’t know what kind of research to track that exists (if there is any). However, Dave Pierce, the composer, is collaborating with Twyla Tharpe on the Broadway premiere of the Frank Sinatra-based musical, Come Fly With Me, which opens in March. Jean Grand-Maître was approached by Elton John to commission an entirely new ballet based on his work. I mean, these aren’t just some Robin Sparkles equivalents, famous in Canada only; these are huge, world-class stars collaborating with (and specifically choosing) Calgarians, and I really don’t know if Calgary would have been on anyone’s radar for them had it not been for the momentum built by the ’88 Games.

I think that the foundation of global presence laid in ’88 was built on by the economic freedom of the oil boom, and that arts, culture, and sport have all taken advantage of the amazing opportunity that was given to Calgary 22 years ago and multiplied by the good fortune of the oil and gas industry in the past decade.

Granted, in ’88 I was only in kindergarten, so while I have first-hand memories of the Games, I don’t have first-hand knowledge of the stories behind them, but even in my understanding of the city since then, I don’t think that there were nearly the politics associated with the games as there are in Vancouver. (And a quick Googling confirms that there was no major political controversy. The biggest controversy had to do with the Chinook winds and whether they would impact the conditions of venues. I also can’t find record of any major protests. There were smaller ones along the torch relay route, but nothing of the scale seen in Vancouver.)

My Googling also tells me that the Calgary games were the first winter games to actually make a profit (although a later audit disputed the actual numbers) which obviously makes a difference in the way the Games are perceived and what they can do for the city. Regardless of the exact profit or debt numbers, though, an endowment fund was created which now sustains Canada Olympic Park and other training facilities, created the National Sport School, and built up amateur sports. I’ve even seen articles stating that if it weren’t for the Calgary Olympics and the facilities and funds that came out of it, Canada would not be as major a player in winter sports as we are now.

So it saddens me that Vancouver doesn’t get that same experience. That the Olympics don’t seem to be the point of pride that they should be for a host city. That there won’t be the same legacy of growth, forward motion, and long-term benefit. That Calgary’s Games were marked by volunteerism and community, while Vancouver’s seem to be marked by protest and controversy. It doesn’t seem fair that two Olympic Games, separated by only 1000 km and 22 years, are also separated by such a dichotomy of experience and attitude. I think that part of the reason I love the Olympics so much is that the first ones that I remember (in ’84, I was far too young) were in my hometown, and I got to experience them live. I love the fact that those memories aren’t really all that tarnished as I learn more about the impact and legacy of those Games from an adult perspective, but I feel for the kids who will be caught up in the magic this year — but may learn, at some point down the road, how divisive that magic was.

However, let’s end this on a lighter note. A few (very few) highlights from last night, in no particular order:

• The look on Clara Hughes’ face as she walked into the stadium carrying the Canadian flag. The look of humbled awe, incredulity, amazement, joy, and honor on her face encapsulated the whole thing for me. On a human level, that’s still my favorite image of the night.
• My favorite of the dance pieces was “Who Has Seen the Wind”. I think. I can’t quite decide, because they were each amazing in unique ways. The newscasters described that one as capturing the sense of “boundless infinity” (or something like that — I so wish I could remember the exact phrase!), and it really did. There was something about it that caught the poetic endlessness. I also really, really love the way they incorporated classic Canadian literature into the ceremony. That was just gorgeous.
• I really loved the symbolism of the handover from the Olympic flag (famous Canadians, not necessarily athletes, who were likely most recognizable 25-40 years ago [with the exception of Julie Payette]) to the Olympic torch (recognizable Canadian athletes who have been at the top of their game in the past 10-15 years) to the current Olympic athletes, who are charged with the responsibility to keep that legacy going today. Nicely subtle generational commentary.
• When the cauldron is lit, the flames look like a maple leaf!
• Flaming tap shoes. Need I say more?
• Bermuda’s outfits. Again, need I say more?
• The Calgary Tower will be lit during the Olympics.

Happy Olympics, everyone!

The first question we were asked was, “What is your ideal night out in Calgary?” (And I, at least, differentiated this from something like having dinner at another couple’s house. That’s sort of a night out, but it’s also a night in.)

Around the table, the answers were very similar: Dinner out, a show or other event (mostly another type of arts event or else a sporting event), coffee or drinks afterward. The variations were in the specifics: the company, the event, the location for dinner or drinks. The moderator asked us, then, whether this “ideal night out” was something we did on a fairly regular basis. And, again, around the table, the answer was yes. Maybe not as often as we’d like, but at least every few months or so, we go out this way.

What makes it ideal — makes it a fantasy, really? The details. The confluence of perfect moments convening on one night: Someone else paying for it. The right coffee shop being open late enough to go to afterward. No time pressures getting from dinner to the show. A great new restaurant to try. The right company. A limo to ride in. Cabs readily available. Good parking. Great weather.

I was thinking about this afterward, wondering what the responses would be from the other two groups. Would there be more variety in the description of an “ideal night out”? Would there be people whose ideal night was the same as ours — they just didn’t do it all that often (or ever)? Was an ideal night out something that was just dreamed about, but never followed through on?

We (both Colin and I in particular, and this focus group of 10 in general) are lucky people to have our “ideal night out” be something that we do on a regular basis. If all that stands between the absolutely perfect night out and me are the details like the weather, that’s a pretty good place to be in.

And then it really made me wonder: if you’re not having your ideal night out at least once a year, why not?

Seriously. Why not?

Forget waiting until all the details fall into place; just have that night out, even with the crappy downtown parking and the lack of cabs in Calgary and the rush from the restaurant to the theatre and the coffee at Denny’s afterward because every decent coffee shop is closed.

Imagine what it would be like today if city planners had believed, 40 or 80 or 100 years ago that Calgary has the potential to be a world-class city — to someday stand up against any great city in the world in its arts and culture, industry, nature, and people. Imagine what it would be like if, when it was a city of 100,000 people, city planners had dreamed — and planned — ahead to Calgary as a city of 5 million, instead of seeing it grow to a small city in the something-hundred-thousand range. Imagine how much further ahead we could be now if, instead of playing catchup with roads and transit and infrastructure, the city was able to allocate those resources differently. If Calgary had the resources to be a city friendly to a large population, rather than struggling to sustain it and finding ways to both grow and retroactively fit at the same time.

What would it look like now if the dreams had been bigger then?

I’m on the brink of several new adventures, both career-wise and otherwise, and I’m looking at the steps ahead and finding ways to dream big. As I’m stepping out into a career as a freelance producer and consultant, what does it mean to dream big — and more than just dream big, to plan big? To lay the foundation for whatever success I want to see come my way? To create a starting point that can lead to something big — or to something smaller?

If I plan for the best, the smaller result will always fit into the larger foundation. Being over-prepared for a more humble end point is never a bad thing, but anticipating something small can be disastrous when the opportunity for something bigger comes along. What a waste of time, money, energy, and potentially opportunity it is if I have to do the work to retrofit myself or my projects to sustain something grander than anything I’d originally dreamed.

So tell me. What does it mean for you to lay the foundation with an eye to the best possible outcome?

Besides the obvious — friends, In-n-Out, my Starbucks employee discount, and the weather — it was hardest to leave behind the Coffeehouse Theater. I’d spent three semesters as resident producer, along with my good friend Michael, and if there’s one thing I wish I’d had more time to work on and leave my mark on, that was it.

The Coffeehouse is one of CalArts’ performance spaces, unique in the fact that it’s the only student-driven, student-programmed space. We were really a presenting venue, and Michael and I had the responsibility (along with a committee of about 10 students) of programming the space according to our vision; working with presenting artists; and creating a cohesive brand for the Coffeehouse, encompassing a very diverse range of performance styles and disciplines.

At the risk of bragging, we’ve brought the Coffeehouse a long way in the past 2 years, and Kat and Laura, the producers coming in after us, will have a strong foundation to build on. We’ve streamlined the submission process, created a website, expanded the scope to include work from all 6 schools at CalArts, commissioned a logo, built a brand, and made the Coffeehouse a viable Place To Do Work, which it really wasn’t before. And it’s been fun. There have been moments of frustration, but overall, it was a great job — a chance to actually have a say in the aesthetic growth of a presenting organization.

And, to be honest, I’m a little jealous that they get such a great foundation to build on. I’d have liked to have spent another year developing the Coffeehouse, continuing to move forward with some of the ideas and dreams that Michael and I have had for the space. But that’s the nature of a student job, I guess. We’re there for a very finite amount of time, and we do what we can and then hand it over to someone else who will do what they can and then hand it off to someone else altogether.

It reminded me how much I love long-term, organizational planning, though. I love the process of planning and dreaming for an organization’s growth over 5 or 10 years, breaking that down into steps, and figuring out how best to make the process effective. Even though, as I said in my last entry, I’m looking forward to doing some freelance projects for a while, I also realize that my big-picture job needs to be somewhere with the opportunity to create — or recreate — an organization.

One-off productions are a lot of fun, but there’s something special about finishing a show and being the one to stick around and plan for the next time, rather than being the one to finish the show and move on to the next project.

But in the meantime, I suppose I need to get myself out there as a freelancer, don’t I?

It’s been a wonderfully relaxing few weeks; time for both Colin and I to decompress from our very busy fall seasons. We’ve spent more time sitting in front of the TV in the past 3 weeks than we did in the rest of 2009 combined. I think the past few weeks have included season 1 of Dexter and Weeds, seasons 1 and 2 of Chuck (in preparation for the season 3 premiere last night), season 2 of Friends… and I know I’m missing something, but those are the ones that stand out right now.

It still hasn’t entirely sunk in that I’m finished school. I know that I’m finished my MFA, but right now, it honestly just feels like I’m on winter break. CalArts doesn’t go back to school until next week — class sign-ups aren’t even until this weekend — so everyone else is still on break, and I kind of feel like I am, too. The biggest difference is that I haven’t been trying to cram coffee and/or double dates in with everyone we know. Usually, I’m trying to see everyone as often as possible in the 3-4 weeks that I’m back for Christmas, but this year, I’ve hardly seen anyone, and that feels a little strange. Nice, though. Not that I don’t love everyone and want to see them, but it’s nice to have the luxury of time.

I’m not working yet, although I have some contract work lined up and I’m back on the roster at the temp agency I worked at before grad school. I’m hoping to either find a full-time position with an arts organization (and soon!) or to piece together enough freelance and contract work to keep me busy and working full-time. I wouldn’t mind that at all, actually. Until we know whether, when, and where Colin’s going back to school, I wouldn’t mind just working all kinds of jobs in my field for all kinds of employers, and waiting to find something permanent.

Of course, if that perfect permanent job falls into my lap, I’ll grab it right away, but in the meantime, I’m looking forward to working on multiple projects and having a wide range of experience. Just means that we’ll have to find our own health insurance, rather than getting it through either of our employers.

So I’m back. Back online, back in Calgary, back to the professional world — and it’s all very exciting, if a little nerve-wracking!

In the meantime, I’ll leave you with our 2009 Christmas letter, if you feel like taking the whirlwind tour of what 2009 was for us.

I’ll be back to posting regularly very soon; in the meantime, I hope you had a great Christmas and a chance to take some time to relax and reflect.

It’s 8 a.m. on New Year’s Day, and I’m finally heading to bed — Colin and I have our own little New Year’s Eve tradition of choosing a season of TV to marathon, and then parking ourselves on the couch all day to get through it all. Today (yesterday?) we started at 4 p.m. with the last four episodes of Chuck, season 1, and then moved on to season 1 of Dexter.

(We have a thing for death on New Year’s Eve, apparently — the last two years have been seasons one and two, respectively, of Dead Like Me, and we also have Pushing Daisies, which we didn’t get to tonight, but which we’ll be watching in the next couple of days.)

But today, it was 16 episodes in 16 hours, almost to the minute — including food and bathroom breaks.

Sounds like a pretty perfect New Year’s Eve to me.

I work at Starbucks, and you may have seen that our new Christmas drink this year is a Caramel Brulée. Spelled that way. At least, in the U.S. it’s spelled that way.

I was looking through the signage for it a few days ago and discovered that the spelling on Canadian signs is “Caramel Brûlé,” which is actually correct. “Caramel,” in French, is masculine, and the past participle of “to burn” (brûler) is brûlé. If the noun was feminine (as in “Crème Brûlée”), there would be the additional “E” on the end, but because it’s masculine, there isn’t.

So… what’s up with that, Starbucks? Is it because Canadians would be more likely to recognize the error? Because Americans are used to the spelling of Crème Brûlée (with less understanding of the actual origin of the dessert name) and wouldn’t notice the difference (and they’ve even omitted the accent circonflexe over the U!) — or would think that it was misspelled because it’s not what they’re used to?

All I know is that when I pointed it out to my co-workers, they were insulted that Starbucks didn’t give them the benefit of the doubt to name the drink correctly. They may not have known the conjugation of the verb, but they were rather insulted that Starbucks assumed they would rather have the misspelling as the name of the drink than have it named properly across the continent.

More than just an admonition against swearing, particularly blasphemous utterances, that third commandment is a reminder that, in the Judeo-Christian tradition, we literally take the name. Whether it’s identifying as God’s Chosen People or as Christians, something about our very identity invokes God’s presence.

So when I take that name, do I take it in vain? When people associate me with Christ, in whatever way, have I taken that responsibility and privilege lightly? When I identify as a faith-based theatre artist working from the Christian tradition, and I carry with me the baggage of centuries of religious art and cheesy Christmas pageants, is there something about me — about my work — that rises above that and bears the name of Christ, rather than only bearing the history and tradition?

It’s bigger than simply uttering “Oh my God!” or “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!” in moments of surprise or panic.

It’s a matter of taking a name, taking an identity, bearing a witness.

In one of my classes right now, I’m in the process of writing my aesthetic and artistic statements, finding the words to describe my work and how my faith impacts it, both in the general terms, and in the specifics of what I will or won’t produce. I came in with that document on Friday, and presented my class with a list of works — faith-based or not — that inspire me, and certain criteria for work that I want to do. It was more about the attitude and underlying themes of the work than the story content, and I think that it surprised some of them that I didn’t come in with my “WILL NOT TOUCH” list.

As I took the name of faith-based theatre artist, did I bear witness to the fact that we’re not all working from a list of taboo subjects, but that my context determines the work I do, just as much as the content itself? Did they see that I want to tell good stories, just like the rest of them, and that I refuse to pigeon-hole a script that I haven’t even read based on its perceived content?

I bear witness as an artist, as a Christian, as a person of faith. I take these names — do I take them in vain?