It was one of the defining Guelph moments for me, when I finally began to get some tiny understanding of exactly how dysfunctional that particular artistic community really was. What I eventually came to understand was they knew that they didn’t want things to be like they were. They were absolutely certain of that. But if they couldn’t make things better their way then they didn’t want things to change. They were also certain of that. What really amazes me is that I just didn’t see it before then. Heck I’d been witness to that kind of gardening club mentality since I was in my first committee as a way too young teenager. I had an unbroken stretch of thirty years of learning good group process, where that kind of group dysfunction is usually early recognized and dealt with. So that I missed it speaks to how completely I wanted it to not be so.
Really, it was absolutely amazing. There was a working group that quickly sank under the weight of its own foolishness. I have had some fairly serious experience studying and working in consensus-style. At one of the early meetings I suggested consensus would likely be a sensible approach while we all figured out what we wanted to do and how. What followed was probably one of the most mind-blowing moments in all of my years of unfortunate experience in that sad little town. One of the bright lights of the artistic community, renowned for his supposed kindness and good works, put me firmly in my place. While he was patiently explaining how stupid my suggestion was, because although I might not be aware of it these are all busy people here, he said, and I quote, “We don’t have time for consensus.”
Well my own experience, and that of many others with whom I had discussed exactly this situation, suggested that if the group foundered over this they were going nowhere. But my own experience was entirely discounted. While I tried to help things along as best I could the group was truly doomed. Much later, as I reflected on what had happened I realized something. In a true working group I don’t have time for voting. It seems I consider it to be the refuge of browbeaters, gatekeepers, popular highschool cliques, and ugly people with nice smiles. Take your pick as to which of those parts the bright light was playing that day. I have no idea. And couldn’t possibly care less.
That also began a very strange run of years where every time I encountered the bright light in a social situation he would ride me hard about anything handy. It was so very bizarre. Because why? As someone who watched one of these sad scenes later said, “I guess he put you in your place.”
Which he seemed to feel I needed.
How perceptive.
How kind.
And in the end sadly, how very typical of my experience in his town.