Washington DC is a stunningly confusing and incredible city to me. Though I have lived close to a major city for my whole life, Washington DC threw me for a loop, and much more than I was expecting it to. First, I adapted to a non-grid structure, making me miss and love Chicago even more. Next, I reconciled that midwestern kindness/passivity was nowhere to be found, though in many instances that isn’t bad. What I continued to grapple with throughout the month, was just unbelievable energy of the city. A city with 2 marches of tens of thousands to hundreds of thousands of demonstraters in the span of two weeks is either at war with itself or has something different going on. Though for DC, one could make an argument it is both. Gentrification and displacement became a constant theme of our studies and classwork in DC. Each neighborhood, ward, and corner of the city has had to adapt to rapid changes, and by the end of our time there, I’d venture to say we have at the very least a glimpse of the big the picture.
Most of us in this course have been to DC before, whether it be for a school trip, family vacation, or club outing. At most site visits or panel meetings, the presenter would at some point ask some of us or all of us whether or not we had been to DC. A bunch of hands would go up, my own included, but most felt like they had a pretty big asterisk next to them. YES, I have been to DC*
*10 years ago for a family vacation and we were here for 5 days and only stayed on the mall.
Some of us had been to DC more recently than others, but as the trip went on, mine and some others’ asterisks felt a little bit bigger. To say I had been to DC prior to this month would imply that I have at least a rudimentary idea on how to get around, a good place to eat, and some fun attractions. I remember the White House and Capitol Hill, and a brief view of Marine One, in which I was convinced that I saw Obama wave down to me. Anyone with a textbook or Google could tell you more about any of those things than I could. Other classmates held a similar sentiment to my own. I would like to think that our view of DC has undoubtedly also changed because the politics have changed. It is no secret that the politics of our country have been more dramatic than what is typically seen as normal. Even if you had been under a rock for the past 5 years, the month we studied in DC gave us dozens of opportunities to see the unrest and discord. We were repeatedly challenged to use our voices, whether it be at the NEA–an institution that must adapt with each administration and whose voice is often contingent on their governing body–or Americans for the Arts–an organization dedicated to vocalizing the artistic needs of people to those in power.
The conversation about people’s voices was everywhere in DC. Every museum, performance, or play made us ask, “Who is the intended audience and what is it trying to say?”, many people in the class focused on accessibility in different institutions and how to make sure their voice was being heard, and several places were dedicated specifically to giving a voice to those who have been historically quieted. After all of these challenges and conversations about voice, it was all brought full circle by artist Freya Grand, in a conversation during our visit to the Museum of the Americas. Grand emphasized several times that, “Art is a tool of communication that can inspire bigger conversation…”, all while standing in an exhibit she was featured on called, “Dialog”. Once she said that, and a bunch of us all pulled out our phones to write that quote down, I recognized that therein lies the common ground in Democracy and the Arts. Every policy proposal, blog post, and thank you letter we wrote was all about being a part of this conversation. Some artistic institutions were so frustrating because of their active attempts to not have or start a conversation. In addition to teaching us about how big and vibrant this conversation is, DC taught us how simple it can be as well. While arts advocacy and education are literally full time jobs, it is greatly impacted by the smallest of actions. Our meeting in Angie Craig’s office and our conversation with her representative showed us the importance of each letter, phone call, and email. Americans for the Arts taught us about advocating anywhere, from our hometowns and our schools to our universities and national government. Americans for the Arts cited the last budget cut by President Trump, in which a mass amount of people, celebrities included, lobbied their congressional representatives and fought for arts funding. As citizens in a Democratic Republic, it is our job to use our voices, though it is often a forgotten tool. It is our job to speak for those who are silenced or cannot speak for themselves. I learned so much about the things that St. Olaf can do better in terms of accessibility from students focused on accessibility in their policy proposals, and I mean to reconnect with them over the semester to continue that conversation.
As a civically engaged individual, the simplest and most powerful thing you can do is start and continue conversations. I also realized that I want to find the arts organizations that are more underground or smaller, and recognize what they are doing for their part in the conversation. I want to make sure that their voices are being heard among the Smithsonian’s and giant venues. DuPont Underground was the embodiment of that ideal. They are a scrappy and lively arts venue that uses everything they have at their disposal and are willing to give a platform to those who are shunned by other places. I realized from DU that I don’t think I could ever work in a museum. No offense to museums, but the vivacity and energy of the performing arts venues we worked with was truly infectious. I used to be convinced that working at the top of a museum was all I ever wanted in a career, and through our many interviews and visits, I realized that that work isn’t for me. The way they continue the conversation is needed and respectable, but often hands off. In being hands on, you not only get to work with the arts and support them, but you get to live them. DC inspired me with the individuals that knew that to support the arts meant to participate and live them as well. Dozens of panelists and CEO’s had backgrounds in the arts, and were still artists. Too often, both the arts and democracy are relegated to the back burner of our active and daily lives. We use them when we want, and are blind to them the rest of the time. They both impact our lives immensely, but we are only conscious of them when we slap the word, “ART” or “ELECTION” on them. Both are active and living things that may not require all of our attention, but do require recognition, else we run the risk of someone being left out of the conversation.