According to tradition, the proper first-anniversary gift is paper, which is apt, as today heralds (pun unavoidable) a full year of reporting all the Southern Vermont arts that'll fit into 30 or so weekly columnar inches of this fine paper.
Before I started the Sover Scene, I knew Vermont had a thriving cultural infrastructure, with its numerous galleries, museums, bookshops, theaters, concert venues and festivals. Still, I assumed I'd need to do at least a tiny bit of digging each week in order to find truly exceptional events upon which to expound.
The delicious reality, however, is that I'm more often than not hard-pressed to decide what not to write about. Sounds like an ill-conceived BBC series, but, honestly, come Friday each week I already have a vat of ideas for next week's column percolating in my head and not because of any shrewd investigative effort on my part. Outstanding visual, literary, musical and theatrical art happenings are simply ubiquitous around here, like moss on boulders and weathervanes on barns.
And since I'm one of those people who'd rather go deep into one topic than skim the surface of many, the end of each week usually has my brow furled as I attempt to settle on one theme. Hmmm … the lecture on Steinbeck in East Dover or the Tibetan documentary screening in Saxtons River? The exhibit in Jamaica of photos from Kyoto or the Nigerian dance performance in Bellows Falls? The Winslow Homer sketches in Bennington or the Britpop band in Brattleboro?
Without question, Southern Vermont is a voluminous feast for us culture vultures and, unless every Vermont resident who loves or creates art is suddenly abducted by aliens, I will never run out of ideas.
It's a terribly nice problem to have, though sometimes it really is a tough call. Case in point, there are two compelling events taking place on June 7, both of which I'd love to cover in depth next week but, alas, I must resist. My editors already have a hard enough time reigning in my verbosity on one topic without having to crack the whip on two.
For lack of a better term, the "first runner-up" is a talk on Gertrude Stein during which Barbara Will, associate professor of English at Dartmouth, will be discussing the Mother of Modernism's illustrious Left Bank salon, which included 20th-century heavyweights such as Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Manet, Picasso and Cezanne.
Anyone who's read more than a couple of these columns can attest that I could easily write thousands of words on this kind of event. Not only does my academic background in art history make me giddy at the thought of all those Titans of the painting world milling around the Stein-Toklas' Parisian parlor, but such a pivotal time in literary history is like a smorgasbord to those of us with stalagmites of books cluttering our floors. So, despite my urge to spotlight this absorbing event as well — 7 p.m., June 7, Brooks Memorial Library in Brattleboro — I just can't.
The topic that elbowed out Gertrude and her posse is a worthy opponent, as you'll see in the first of Sover Scene's second year, next week!
And to think that when I moved here six years ago, some of the friends I was leaving behind in San Francisco were concerned that I'd have constant culture cravings and that my intellectual life would be drastically narrowed to things like maple candy competitions and lectures on the art of sheep shearing.
Well, for one thing, I love maple candy and very much appreciate that all things aggie embody a crucial slice of Vermont's incredibly rich cultural history. But the truth of the matter is — and this is what got this flatlander here in the first place — Vermont has more artistic mojo per capita than most places on the planet and writing this column reaffirms that, every week.
As a matter of fact, it was art that got me here. In early 2000, my former husband and I were considering moving to New England from the Bay Area and had just come back from a reconnaissance road trip around Maine, where I'd spent a lot of time as a kid with relatives. A few friends and acquaintances that heard about our trip made a point of advising us to check out Vermont before we made any decision, attesting that it's an incomparable place with a rare appreciation for creativity and independent thought.
Like every self-respecting business-owner and mother considering moving with her family across the country, I Googled the words crucial to any well-researched, prudent relocation venture: "art," "literature" and "Vermont." The first listing was RAMP, the Rockingham Arts and Museum Project in Bellows Falls. I think my husband must have thought I'd spiked my tea because I came squealing out of our office as if I'd found Nirvana — not the band, we already had that CD.
I was thrilled to have discovered such a thriving arts organization in the middle of New England and guessed, correctly, that it was a testament to the vibrancy and pluck of the community in general. A year later, we'd bought a house just outside Bellows Falls and knew it was the best move we ever made, particularly for our children. I'm quite sure they're exposed to far more kultchah here than they would have been in San Francisco because most art events and venues there are prohibitive and, almost more to the point, there's never any bloody parking, which dissuades even the most committed of us "museum-moms" from teaching little Johnny about things like post-modernism or the Fauvists.
By now RAMP's founder, Robert McBride, has heard my moving — in every sense of the word — tale so many times he can recite it verbatim, but if it weren't for Robert and the Internet — thank you, Al Gore — I wouldn't have found this extraordinary corner of the world, much less this outstanding publication.
The experience of learning more and more about the bustling southern Vermont art world by writing the Sover Scene each week has been extraordinarily positive, as has the response. E-mails from readers who connect with something they see herein or who offer informative tidbits about favorite topics are frosting on an already delectable cake.
Add to it that the editors with whom I work are as astute, congenial, respectful and intrepid as any I have ever encountered in my two decades of writing, and this first year of working with a family-owned, conglomerate-eschewing paper of such admirable integrity has been a true joy.
As the cards say, here's to many more!
Contact Annie Guyon at [email protected].
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