Friday, October 7, 2011

What it is, is life

A full day begins with Mark. He’s got sound equipment in several places, wants to bring it all to West-Park. Can fix us up with a good system. He’d like to be the in house sound guy, free for us and non-profits who are our partners. He’d charge straight rentals to others, split the fee swith us . He could also work out recording and even has a projector he could let us have. Sounds like a good deal. He also borrows a hammer, looks for some nails to repair one of our sign boards. 
Teddy is sitting in the sanctuary. The load out continues. Watching it all come down is depressing after the excitement of watching the Tenant spaces take shape over the weeks and living here all these months. Mark comes back in, sign repaired. 
Mim, Ted, Hope, Sarah and Danielle all come togther in the office to meet with Lisa  and begin to put together a strategy to raise the money necessary to get a new boiler. We need to get the final dollar figures firm so we can know what we need. 
Danielle goes with Sarah up to Mc Alpin to work on preparing the space for the gallery opening that will happen tonight.
Hope and I talk about Occupy Wall Street. The sense that something global is happening. We’re saddened by the silence of the church in the face of what feels to be a significant moment. The church seems to be caught up in its own self absorbed concerns whether it’s Louisville or New York City. Like somewhere along the line, it bought into the idea, with resignation or even cynicsm that one has to understand the way things are and make the best of it. That survival means acquiescing to where money and power seems to be. Making a prioiri acquiescence to the powers of domination which doesn’t really work anyhow. It’s causing her to raise theological questions. There has to be another, a prophetic word somewhere. The rest of it all is already over. But then we’ve known that. Presence. Relationship. Authenticity. That’s what counts. 
Derek from Grace Church comes by, wants to know if we’ve read his letter. If they could even rent for Christmas. Jocelyn stops by, she was the disabled girl in the Tenant. Also a  member of the Collective. Helped do casting. She’s opening in a new avant garde play by Mac Wellman tomorrow night. on Dixon Place downtown . Mr. Martin, the slightly eccentric paino tuner who shows up at random times at our home to tune the piano has come in. Begins to check out our popup baby grand. Tells me it’s a Selmer and that he used to work for them on 57th across from Carnegie Hall. Where he learned his trade. 
Someone comes in with the idea for a dramatic production that coud be punctuated with organ music. I explain that the Austin is presently out of service but Mark says with amplicifaction our classic Hammond could sound (almost) like a pipe organ. Sarah has returned with James, the little guy she nannies.  Boxer Mike is back form Sweden with stories. And just tell him how he can help. Maybe clean out the front where stuff is all in a jumble? We’ll figure that out when Woodshed is finally all out. 
Hope has observed all this. Thinks it’s great. This is her church. What it is, is life. And that’s enough.
We just have to find a way to get enouhg money to keep it going.
I return shortly after six to see the gallery opening. It’s a show called Telling the Truth. Simple installations by Joe Sturm, Ben Valentine and David Vu curated by Vincent Tiley. The cafe left over from the Tenant is  now our reception area. We’re using some of RL’s wine.  I tell Ben that his mylar works remind me of the mylar blankets we used to use for homeless people in cold weather.  He likes that.
Our gala committee meets. We talk about how it’s all got to be coordinated with the fundraising for the boiler. Ted has some doubts about the whole boiler/fundraising process. Do we need a plan B? A plan C? We have to  find a way to include music. And wonder. And yes, the questions raised by Occupy Wall Street. I see Leila and Berik leaving from  visiting the opening. 

Our meeting has  ended. The opening is over. Cardboard beds are being made outside. In the doorways. Above the steps. 

No comments:

Post a Comment