It is February 15th, the first in a series of big grant deadlines for beleaguered Nova Scotian arts administrators, and the midpoint of "grant season". I'm just finished, actually I finished the bulk of the work, all except the paranoid paper shuffling (did I remember the budget? Did I put any support materials in?) a few days ago. And its a good thing too, due to a super hectic playing schedule for the next three, or more weeks. (It's been nice, the writing has kept me away from my cello, preserving my already exhausted arm from further damage!).
So I've be submerged in a sea of ideas, semantics and guesswork. A curious and deep immersion, all for a small pot of (deeply needed and gratefully accepted) funding. It's actually hard to tear myself away from the thoughts, and the computer after these things are done, and as I walked away from the post office (my usual person wasn't there, the one that knows what is contained in that envelope and how much it means to me, and just as importantly, knows I like a big postal stamp with the date on the envelope (an extension of "paper shuffling paranoia"), I had a curious empty feeling. I've had relief before, but never empty......perhaps I'm getting closer to the plans and more attached to the work this application will hopefully fund, or maybe I'm actually enjoying the analysis and editting that I never imagined I'd be doing when I was a young cello student, practicing furiously away. Who knows, but I thought I'd record it.
And I know I'll be starting the next one, between bouts of practicing, very soon!
As I walked back from the post office, I ran into a neighbour and friend, who runs a theatre festival, with the big brown envelope under his arm: "I'm delivering this by hand, and then there will be drinks!"
If you see an arts administrator in February or March, give them a hug!
Feb 15, 2012 at 17:41