Freedom vs Carrot

[LUCKY DIAMOND RICH]

Street vs Corporate Organised Performance

It amazes ,me how many festivals put themselves under the umbrella of a Street Performing Festival,when really they proberly started out like that,but we all know they are merely just a Corporate Organised Performance Event.

The carrot is to big for the organises from the sponsers and we as performers become a mear advertisement for 1,2,3,4,5,6 and sometimes more products that has been placed sytematicly around the performance area (High Profile Spots)!
I mean dont get me wrong I did it all this summer for the first time in 14 years in Canada and yes I got some great high tec toys to play around with,with the money I earnt from the ready made crowds,waitng to give you there money!

But I am so glad I did it this summer as I have been reminded of what freedom I have as a Street Performer!
Freedom vs Carrot
I am going to go for the freedom,thanks to all that reminded me of what I truely have the STREET!
It will always be there for you out there if you are sick of the Carrot
!


LDR

[Jim]

[quote]Originally posted by LUCKY DIAMOND RICH:
<strong>Street vs Corporate Organised Performance

It amazes ,me how many festivals put themselves under the umbrella of a Street Performing Festival,when really they proberly started out like that,but we all know they are merely just a Corporate Organised Performance Event.

LDR</strong><hr></blockquote>


So Lucky, how was Halifax?

Jim

[Guy]

Its an wonderful thing to be able to make a living (and a good one too!)by passing the hat.Without having to sell out to the corporations, to be able to go whereever and whenever you want to. It is a beautiful thing to be a busker! Even though now I have a nice little corporate gig, its great to know that I can walk from it whenever I like and still make a good living whilst having a great time.
Good publicity dosen't make a good performer! But thats what gets the gigs! When you are a good busker you are free.
Long live that freedom!

[firegirl]

although in public i would say: F THE CORPORATE MEDIA WHORES.... as a political philosophy/principle...

as a practice i think my offical opinion is:

give me freedom AND the carrot... more stablity of income for me.
[img]smile.gif[/img]

besides - the more options you have, the more you can pick and choose gigs.

[ 08-28-2003: Message edited by: firegirl ]</p>

[Evan Young]

Just give me a trust fund and I'll quit performing.

[mommaK]

To be corporate or not to be....that's the question.
Unfortunately, yes...sometimes Street Performing Festivals have to rely on funding from corporations in order for us to continue to survive. Every year we struggle to put on a festival. Every year I have to ask in January if I'm going to be employed for the rest of the year. But every year, I put my heart on the street to be there for the performer. I try my damndest to understand both sides of the story and work accordingly.

I'm sorry if some performers have had hard times in Halifax in the past, but believe me...I have worked hard over the past 4 years to make this festival an enjoyable one for the performers. And I think that I've done a damn good job at it. Plus if that means that my company has to whore itself out to a corporate sponsor in order for me to be employed year after year...then so be it. But remember that I'm the one standing up for your rights as well.

[ALAKAZAM]

hear my thoughts at festival discussions&gt;halifax.
AL

[em]

i don't mind the corporate logo thing as long as i don't have to work outside the bank/supermarket/hotel that has sponsored said event and happens to be on the other side of town next a road with no punters!!! (or if its macdonalds, nstle or coca cola, but thats political)

secondly we are always surrounded by logos, we wear logos, nike (another bastard company!) adidas etc etc...
its hard to avoid logos in a world that at its very heart is corporate...

x

[nick nickolas]

Once upon a time.......

Mr Carrot and Mr Stick were having breakfast in an old transport cafe, discussing the past, the present, and the future over eggs, bacon, beans and mushrooms. Agreeing that in the past they were the same, both had started life as a seed, but while the Mr Carrot was forced to grow in the dark, worm filled earth, using all his strength to push the earth aside to make way for growth. Mr Stick was to branch out in to the spring sunshine providing life to budding flowers, leaves and fruits.

The present, well as I just told you was an old transport cafe.

Mr stick was wiping his plate with the last of the fried bread and Mr Carrot was finishing his mug of tea, they looked at each other, round at the nicotine coated walls, filled with flatcaps, grease, copies of the daily tabloids, coffee stained with rings, remnant of yesterdays news.

“There is more to life than this” Mr Stick exclaimed.
“I am going on a journey”
“Your right” Mr Carrot replied
“I shall too”.
Walking out into the frosty early morning they looked at each other again and nodded a parting gesture
“ till we meet again” .

Mr Stick went across the road and to the train station, catching a ride by hopping into a blue holdall filled with a bunch of other other sticks attached to a human with a big blue hat. He tried to make conversation but the other sticks were silent so he went to sleep.

Mr carrot turned left.


Mr Stick found himself woken from a deep sleep suddenly, when the blue holdall he was in dropped to the floor...,
Strange voices foreign to his ears echoed around the holdall, he hid in the corner avoiding the rubber hands rummaging around inside .

The next time he saw the light of day was when hands came in again, this time not so rubbery and extracted the rest of the contents of the bag, peering over the top leaning on the zip, Mr stick watched.

The owner of the hands , the master of the holdall, ‘Blue Hat’ proceeded to set fire to the other sticks (“which is probably why they are mute “ he thought to himself ) and was spinning them in the air, then after contorting himself into a variety of sailors knots he spun himself through the air landing in a handstand.

Mr Stick observed people watching Blue Hat with astonishment and laughter then praising him with hundreds of coins and smiles.

The holdall, full again, was swung from Blue Hats hand. This time he had to be careful to avoid being snapped by the bag of coins or being overcome by the fumes of the other sticks...

His journey continued being taken from place to place always watching, leaning carefully on the zipper.

He only came out at night when Blue Hat was sleeping.

Then he would get up, stretch and bend, he got good after time, in fact very good.
He was able to tie himself in knots more intricate than Blue Hat and hop and flip from head to toe, he had contemplated setting himself alight, but he didn’t know where to get the protective clothing the other sticks had, besides he had no desire to be mute or smell like a petrol station.

One sunny day Mr stick, watching once again, leaning on the zipper, hopped out of the bag, executed a twisting double forward flip then slithered on the ground like a snake into the centre of the crowd, stood up and took a bow.
The people went wild,,,!!!

Blue Hat tried to grab him but Mr Stick was too fast and skipped around him. The crowd, watching the improvised slapstick routine materialise infront of their eyes. went nuts,,,!!!

No one could catch Mr stick as he sprung through the crowd and down the street.

Lying down inconspicuously in the shade of a tree Mr Stick contemplated his future which he decided was to be travelling around, hitching rides where he could , performing his intricate twists and flips entertaining people everywhere...

The word began to spread about the circus stick, people saw him all over the world, but while many viewed him and many chased this elusive phenomena he was never caught ( oh a couple of times by dogs, but Mr Stick even managed to elude them)


Mr Carrot on the other hand had a different journey...

Taking a left out of the cafe and down a side streets
He stopped off to have a conversation with some old timers..soft skinned vegetables all lying cramped in a card board box.
When suddenly a large pair of gloved hands threw him in with the others picked them up and dumped in the back of a truck..

“ere we go, off to the farm it’s the end of our days” one old timer wept.

Mr carrot wasn’t sure what he meant, but knew it wasn’t to be the end of his days, crikey he’d just started his journey.

It was a long and bumpy road to the farm where they were lifted up and dumped into a trough.

Rotten odours,,, smells of death and decay filled Mr Carrots world.

Then the faces, large lashed eyes hiding behind long snouts , salivating tongues and giant teeth, accompanied grunts and brays as the trough was suddenly filled with hair. teeth, nostrils, tongues all masticating, munching, chewing, chomping, consuming.

Fearing for his life he dug himself further into the vegetable genocide, finally he was alone.
A taught, bright, young, orange carrot determined to survive,
then the faces came in again....

“What do you think you are doing I am only young, I have a future, haven't you eaten your fill already?” He cried

“Wow, whadya know a talking carrot” a donkey brayed

Then they all brayed, stamped there hoofs and made such a fuss (apart from Mr Carrot as he didn’t know how to bray).
He jumped out of the trough danced a jig flicked the gate open with his tops and led the donkeys out into the countryside yonder.

Settling in the mountains by a lake Mr Carrot started conducting the donkeys getting them to bray in different rhythms and notes.

The echoes of the donkey orchresta travelled far beyond the mountains, over the rivers and across great seas.
This attracted people, loads of people.

Realising people would provide food and shelter and all they had to do was bray, they brayed, brayed and brayed, night and day, day and night.

But the work load soon took its toll.

The people wanted the donkeys to bray on command which was all of the time.
The donkeys couldn’t cope.
The people were coming down on Mr Carrot.
He couldn’t cope and was close to a nervous breakdown.

Slumped, head in his hands at his desk, burnt out, he tried to see an exit from this 24/7 stress he was in .
“The donkeys were losing it, three suicides that month (of course they weren't allowed to be reported)”
Getting up to stoke the fire, caught in his own mental multi-story car-park of gloom.

A familiar voice?
“Hey Ho, why so glum my friend”

“Aha, Mr Stick, how’s your journey been”
Mr Carrot replied, seeing his old pal climbing out of the box of kindling and hopping up on to his desk.

“Sit down , I’ll tell you about it and lift up your dreary self will you”

They sat and talked, they talked about the past which we all now know.
They talked about the present which was glum for Mr Carrot and the future looking doomed.

They both agreed that while Mr Carrot was so good at marketing he was stuck in a hole whereas Mr Stick could hop about wherever he wanted, being able to skip and hop away from the peoples whenever he chose.
Then they came up with a plan.

Mr Carrot would teach the Donkeys how to conduct themselves and send them off in packs across the world, to bray out for the peoples once a year at various destinations...

The donkeys conducted and brayed, the people came,

Mr Stick and his stick buddies twirled, juggled, travelled and contorted capturing laughs and coins.

The donkeys were content with shorter more condensed braying sessions.

Mr Carrot lay on a beach in sunny Thailand.

And everyone lived happily ever after.

[ 09-01-2003: Message edited by: nick nickolas ]</p>

[firegirl]

... tee-hee... nick...

in my current state and mood i wasn't able to read your whole story at this time... however i scrolled down to the end and read...

"and the carrot lay happily on a beach in thailand."

or, something of that variety...

and, all i have to say is:

YOU ROCK!
cheers,
kk

[nick nickolas]

Thanks Fire Girl....
I woke , it was raining , I stayed inside and wrote..
Today is sunny I am going out to plant some vegetables...

Nickolas

[em]

Nick. the mushrooms are coming up in the Brecons...

[Scot Free]

If you plan to milk the cash cow be prepared to sniff manure.