THE IDES OF JANUARY

by GEOFF REES

Doug Weir and Tom Kowall have been fired. With the President of the College unwilling to tell me, as Presi- dent of the Faculty Association, any- thing of the circumstances that led to his decision and no explanation given to either Doug or Tom other than an ambiguous comment about “restruc- turing the organization of the school,” it is hard not to think the firings were capricious. They were not, of course, because the Board of Trustees of the College had to sanction the President’s recommendation to fire and would have required a reason.

The President was within his rights. But he was wrong. He is not obliged to tell me anything about his executive decisions that are not fac- ulty matters. This, however, is not a matter to be seen in the narrow defi- nitions of Administration, Faculty, administrative staff, technical assis- tants, students (in roughly the reverse order of importance). This is a ques- tion of behaviour, a question of style. The President of the school has a sense of style. What I believe we are waiting to see is the substance behind

the style. We’ve gone about as far as we can on a shoe-shine and a smile.

The one thing that has brought all of us into this extraordinary commu- nity of creative people is imagination. You can‘t see it, you can‘t measure it, you can‘t teach it. But oddly enough you can frighten it. Not by making decisions and taking action, but: by acting curtly, thoughtless of the im- pact of decisions and actions. It takes a sturdy constitution to survive in this school at the best of times.

The President was wrong, not in firing Doug and Tom but in doing it like an assassin, indecently, carelessly, fearfully. What was so wanting at a moment of enormous emotional trauma for these two men was not “this is an executive decision for the good of the college” but: this college is going to be less without you; we are going into these next days without your imagination and your experience.

The substance and the style of this school, from it’s President on up, is not perfunctory cliches about progress - it is something called respect, given and received.

Planet of the Arts -Vol 4-No.4-1989.

STUDENT

RE

As you may have heard, Tom Kowall and Doug Weir were “dismissed” quite suddenly on January 27th. For those of you who knew them and their roles within our school, they were the crucial links between us (the students) and the Administration as well as playing key roles in the planning and execution of events that really affect us (like Grad, Pub Nights...).

Tom, who we dealt with on almost a day-to- day level, was integral to our existence as individ- ual students . He was the one who would go the extra distance for just about anybody, and even seem like he cared while he was doing it. What makes us pissed about the newfound absence of Tom, is that we will have to deal directly with Alan Barkley, someone who seems rather indifferent to our needs and concerns.

So Alan, as an aside, our recommendation as ECCAD Student Society is: fire the rest of the school, now that you’ve got the ball rolling. Why not? And while you’re at it, why not rent out parts of the school to Granville Island (for parking and more vegetable booths and stuff... God knows they need the space). We’ve also heard that Li-Cashing is looking for prime Granville Island real estate...

It remains to be seen if Alan Barkley and Brad Campbell can adequately fill the very large shoes of Tom and Doug. We certainly hope so. And if they can’t, it is up to all of us to act . (In case you don’t remember, it is the students that make a school, and it is the students that give Alan Bar- kley his pay cheques...)

SOCIETY

Love and Kisses,

Student Society

EROTICA, ERRATICA, DESPOTICA

by RICK ROSS January 27, 1989

I am in mourning. A definite and particular mourning.

It was a long time coming I now realize, and I’m not sure when it started. Looking back, the causes, viewed in- dividually, seemed insignificant and were therefore easily dismissed.

Perhaps my mourning started when we moved into the Granville Island campus and were informed that notices or signs were only to be placed in Designated Areas. (Thankfully, sheer numbers of people with signs have elimi- nated that directive).

Or maybe it grew with memos about radios being too loud in the studios, or memos with the percentages of A’s, B’s and C’s that should be referred to as guidelines for distributing marks within a course.

I should have thought more clearly about the conse- quences when Friday afternoon pizza-and-beer get-togeth- ers in the studios were officially squashed or, even more recently,actually policed by a new and enthusiastic secu- rity company.

Indeed, I should have queried why the security com- pany that we had, with people we grew to know, was re- placed. People like Bernice and San, who would “bend” rules to facilitate a college project, or open “closed” doors to mount a college exhibit. These people are not replace- able.

I should have raised questions when forms were dis- tributed requiring support staff to specifically list reasons they were late or detained. I remember thinking that while there was space provided on these forms for authori- zation from one’s doctor, lawyer, psychiatrist and dentist, there was no space for a note from one’s parents.

Now I am in mourning; now I wonder, am I too late?

I mourn for an instructor, who I’m told, would use his artistic license to take the brush from a student’s hand and scrub out parts of their canvas he found lacking and say...”Do it over”.

I mourn for the “Emily Boys”, for Port Townsend, for “The Rick and Al show”.

I mourn for the action of a colleague who is a friend and a former instructor of mine. This thoughtful and reasoning person was compelled to punch his fist through the new gyproc at Granville Island and with the same reasoning inscribe underneath the resulting hole: “Don’t let the bastards get you down”.

I mourn for the “Slim Whitman talent contest” and the final act of the evening, in which two performers wrestled in about 20 gallons of clay slip. Mud wrestling, in the Concourse Gallery. The liquidity of the mud, the inevi- table involvement of the front row of spectators, the spon- taneous crowd who soon joined in, allowed a true spirit.

Now I mourn for that spirit; for an Art school that, twenty years ago, hired a young man directly from the mnilitary - a jet pilot, and allowed him to take the time and

.try and understand the notion of a student performance.

This particular performance required the viewer to wit- ness the painstakingly slow moving of a yard of sand from one end of the Helen Pitt gallery to the other. And the ex- pilot sat all day, patiently trying to understand.

Now I mourn for the spirit that allowed the same man some years later to deal with the expense of an extra crew of janitors to mop up the clay slip which had spread from the Concourse Gallery to hell.

I, like my colleague, who’s hole in the gyproc wasn’t aimed at someone, but something, can’t place blame on a president, or board of trustees or a group of security guards.

But I will place blame on myself, and on all of us, who allowed corporate thinking to trod on the spirit of the art school...where innovation,exploration and inventiveness should have priority.

Doug and Tom are going to re-establish, re-organize and be all right.

But I mourn for the spirit that has been violated.s

THE IDES OF JANUARY

by GEOFF-REES

Doug Weir and Tom Kowall have been fired. With the President of the College unwilling to tell me, as Presi- dent of the Faculty Association, any- thing of the circumstances that led to his decision and no explanation given to either Doug or Tom other than an ambiguous comment about “restruc- turing the organization of the school,” it is hard not to think the firings were capricious. They were not, of course, because the Board of Trustees of the College had to sanction the President’s recommendation to fire and would have required a reason.

The President was within his rights. But he was wrong. He is not obliged to tell me anything about his executive decisions that are not fac- ulty matters. This, however, is not a matter to be seen in the narrow defi- nitions of Administration, Faculty, administrative staff, technical assis- tants, students (in roughly the reverse order of importance). This is a ques- tion of behaviour, a question of style. ‘The President of the school has a sense of style. What I believe we are waiting to see is the substance behind

the style. We've gone about as far as we can on ashoe-shine and a smile.

‘The one thing that has brought all of us into this extraordinary commu- nity of creative people is imagination. You can‘t see it, you can‘t measure it, you can‘t teach it. But oddly enough you can frighten it. Not by making decisions and taking action, but by acting curtly, thoughtless of the im- pact of decisions and actions. It takes a sturdy constitution to survive in this school at the best of times.

The President was wrong, not in firing Doug and Tom but in doing it like an assassin, indecently, carelessly, fearfully. What was so wanting at a moment of enormous emotional trauma for these two men was not “this is an executive decision for the good of the college” but: this college is going to be less without you; we are going into these next days without your imagination and your experience.

‘The substance and the style of this school, from it’s President on up, is not perfunctory cliches about progress - it is something called respect, given and received.a

STUDENT SOCIETY

REPORT

As you may have heard, Tom Kowall and Doug Weir wore “dismissed” quite suddenly on January 27th. For those of you who knew them and their roles within our school, they were the crucial links between us (the students) and the Administration as well as playing Key roles in the planning and execution of events that really affect, us (like Grad, Pub Nights...

‘Tom, who we dealt with on almost a day-to- day level, was integral to our existence as individ. ual students . He was the one who would go the extra distance for just about anybody, and even

ke he cared while he was doing it. What us pissed about the newfound absence of ‘Tom, is that we will have to deal directly with Alan Barkley, someone who seems rather indifferent to our needs and concerns.

So Alan, as an aside, our recommendation as ECCAD Student Society is: fire the rest of the school, now that you've got the ball rolling. Why not? And while you're at it, why not rent out parts of the school to Granville Island (for parking and more vegetable booths and stuff... God knows they need the space). We've also heard that Li-Cashing is looking for prime Granville Island real estate...

It remains to be seen if Alan Barkley and Brad Campbell can adequately fill the very large shoes of Tom and Doug. We certainly hope so. And if they can't, itis up to all of us to act . (In case you don’t remember, it is the students that make a school, and it is the students that give Alan Bar-

s pay cheques...

Love and Kisses,

Student Society

EROTICA, ERRATICA, DESPOTICA

by RICK ROSS January 27, 1989

Miretin mounting tataentite and particular mourning.

It was a long time coming I now realize, and I'm not sure when it started. Looking back, the causes, viewed in- dividually, seemed insignificant and were therefore easily dismissed.

Perhaps my mourning started when we moved into the Granville Island campus and were informed that notices or signs were only to be placed in Designated Areas. (Thankfully, sheer numbers of people with signs have elimi- nated that directive).

Or maybe it grew with memos about radios being too loud in the studios, or memos with the percentages of A’s, B’s and C’s that should be referred to as guidelines for distributing marks within a course.

I should have thought more clearly about the conse- quences when Friday afternoon pizza-and-beer get-togeth- ers in the studios were officially squashed or, even more recently, actually policed by a new and enthusiastic secu- rity company.

Indeed, I should have queried why the security com- pany that we had, with people we grew to know, was re- placed. People like Bernice and San, who would “bend” rules to facilitate a college project, or open “closed” doors to mount a college exhibit. These people are not replace- able.

I should have raised questions when forms were dis- tributed requiring support staff to specifically list reasons they were late or detained. I remember thinking that while there was space provided on these forms for authori- zation from one’s doctor, lawyer, psychiatrist and dentist, there was no space for a note from one’s parents.

Now I am in mourning; now I wonder, am I too late?

I mourn for an instructor, who I'm told, would use his artistic license to take the brush from a student’s hand and scrub out parts of their canvas he found lacking and say...”Do it over”.

I mourn for the “Emily Boys”, for Port Townsend, for “The Rick and Al show”.

I mourn for the action of a colleague who is a friend and a former instructor of mine. This thoughtful and reasoning person was compelled to punch his fist through the new gyproc at Granville Island and with the same reasoning inscribe underneath the resulting hole: “Don’t let the bastards get you down”.

I mourn for the “Slim Whitman talent contest” and the final act of the evening, in which two performers wrestled in about 20 gallons of clay slip. Mud wrestling, in the

Concourse Gallery. The liquidity of the mud, the inevi- table involvement of the front row of spectators, the spon- taneous crowd who soon joined in, allowed a true spirit.

Now I mourn for that spirit; for an Art school that, twenty years ago, hired a young man directly from the military - a jet pilot, and allowed him to take the time and try and understand the notion of a student performance. This particular performance required the viewer to wit- ness the painstakingly slow moving of a yard of sand from one end of the Helen Pitt gallery to the other, And the ex- pilot sat all day, patiently trying to understand.

Now I mourn for the spirit that allowed the same man some years later to deal with the expense of an extra crew of janitors to mop up the clay slip which had spread from the Concourse Gallery to hell.

I, like my colleague, who’s hole in the gyproc wasn’t aimed at someone, but something, can’t place blame on a president, or board of trustees or a group of security guards.

But I will place blame on myself, and on all of us, who allowed corporate thinking to trod on the spirit of the art school...where innovation, exploration and inventiveness should have priority.

Doug and Tom are going to re-establish, reorganize and be all right.

But I mourn for the spirit that has been violated.»