Who is this guy? Who does he think he is? An artist proposes ownership of a day for each of us and tries out the idea for himself.
About a month ago, a former resident of Bear Lake invaded his own hometown, stamping it with "JWEDAY2014." Jason Wilder Evans, a filmmaker now living in Washington, D.C., appeared on flyers around town. His YouTube videos rolled in to the virtual lakeshore. His comments on village improvement plans popped up on Facebook. His artwork, according to Evans, was exhibited at multiple locations in the area. Technically, he was born in Benzie County, but his family moved to Bear Lake when he was young and he grew up here.
One common theme unites Evans' proclamations: today, if you haven't heard the news, is Jason Wilder Evans Day - meant for the individual trying to avoid groupthink.
For all of the repetition, though, Evans may never know the impact of his birthday celebration-turned-social experiment. One concept behind Jason Wilder Evans Day is that people may very well mark the occasion without realizing it. Buying milk, riding a bike and other everyday activities, says Evans, are just a few of the ways that others can help him celebrate his day. There will be a parade, too - perhaps the longest parade ever. The cars that trickle past important buildings and even your own residence are the proof. All you have to do to make it bona-fide is wave at the drivers. Extra points if they wave back.
Evans declined an interview request, preferring to let his physical, virtual and conceptual artifacts speak for him. But the idea of bona-fide, legitimate behavior appears to be central to JWEDAY2014. Who decides if one day is National Blueberry Day, after all? Does the National Blueberry Council have such power - and do we give it to them? Is it repetition that makes something real, whether by radio DJs looking to fill time with trivia ("Did ya hear? Oh, I'm lovin' it. I love blueberry pancakes!"), or by local boosters eager to find an extra reason to give a business attention? A birthday is just as real, if not more so, than any industry PR day, and Evans invites us to claim our own day in the same manner.
One of Evans' stunts highlights the difficulty of such informal initiative, however, when translated to the world of official minutes and motions. In one video, Evans circulates a petition that seeks official recognition of his birthday by the Village of Bear Lake. Apparently, it was delivered to the village board members, but shot down. It's hard to tell what they made of the petition. Do they take it as a joke? Can they respond accordingly, with good humor? Do they take it as a serious request that, if they were to approve it, takes no skin off their own backs?
One of Evans' stunts highlights the difficulty of such informal initiative, however, when translated to the world of official minutes and motions. In one video, Evans circulates a petition that seeks official recognition of his birthday by the Village of Bear Lake. Apparently, it was delivered to the village board members, but shot down. It's hard to tell what they made of the petition. Do they take it as a joke? Can they respond accordingly, with good humor? Do they take it as a serious request that, if they were to approve it, takes no skin off their own backs?
Evans seizes on their reaction in another video (featuring a puppet show, set to audio from the meeting). He looks to be genuinely hurt that Carver Edwards, Village Trustee, says the Village might recognize June 12 as a special day once Evans is dead. Of course, most governments are long-known for honoring only a handful of people throughout the year after their deaths. And "never kid a kidder" comes to mind, but it's a cutting remark that's hard to interpret. Edwards is a retired undertaker and funeral home owner/operator.
It's easy to brush off a living person with a harmless, playful request, Evans seems to argue, but it's hard to be accountable and diligent when it comes to the Village's own business (the status of a Village Museum project, spearheaded by Edwards, is uncertain--and allegedly no answers are forthcoming). Why should such a small unit of government behave in this manner? Evans' goofball, self-important holiday seems to illustrate a potential, real-world problem with the way we treat each other while wearing the mask of an Elected Official.
JWEDAY2014 goes further than that. While making much of impromptu activities, Evans also pokes at the quasi-formal efforts of a group of citizens interested in cleaning up downtown properties. Recent building purchases, dilapidated structures owned by the Leckrone family, and the struggle to start new ventures amid state and local codes have all highlighted frustration that's brewed for decades.
In recent years, the Leckrones have lost the heads of the family, John and Karen, who assembled large collections of antiques, knicknacks and craft supplies while they were alive. Karen passed away this February. Their survivors, children and grandchildren, have attempted to sell off those items, using the Village Variety Store and other storefronts. Many have been critical of broken items that border several of the Leckrone properties. Just do it, Evans argues, without scheduling special clean-up days. Respond as an individual to a grieving family, rather than as a group with long-standing grievances that surviving family members may not be able to answer for.
It's easy to brush off a living person with a harmless, playful request, Evans seems to argue, but it's hard to be accountable and diligent when it comes to the Village's own business (the status of a Village Museum project, spearheaded by Edwards, is uncertain--and allegedly no answers are forthcoming). Why should such a small unit of government behave in this manner? Evans' goofball, self-important holiday seems to illustrate a potential, real-world problem with the way we treat each other while wearing the mask of an Elected Official.
JWEDAY2014 goes further than that. While making much of impromptu activities, Evans also pokes at the quasi-formal efforts of a group of citizens interested in cleaning up downtown properties. Recent building purchases, dilapidated structures owned by the Leckrone family, and the struggle to start new ventures amid state and local codes have all highlighted frustration that's brewed for decades.
In recent years, the Leckrones have lost the heads of the family, John and Karen, who assembled large collections of antiques, knicknacks and craft supplies while they were alive. Karen passed away this February. Their survivors, children and grandchildren, have attempted to sell off those items, using the Village Variety Store and other storefronts. Many have been critical of broken items that border several of the Leckrone properties. Just do it, Evans argues, without scheduling special clean-up days. Respond as an individual to a grieving family, rather than as a group with long-standing grievances that surviving family members may not be able to answer for.
There is one darker element at play. As in all art, whether painting or other forms open to interpretation, one can't be sure whether Bear Lake's native son intends it. But it's important to notice where Evans places the accent. It's all about him, on the surface, but he takes elaborate pains to emphasize that individual variance, especially if it doesn't mesh with his own suggestions, is highly important. Bottom-up, rather than top-down, initiative, brainstorming and action fills his speech as soon as you get past the personal headline. Wildly different, personalized behavior is what he calls for. One can't help but think of the polar opposite and its consequences. Give too much ground to the authorities, wait until a deliberative, official group stamps something with its imprint, and even a popular folksong might escape the very people it belongs to.
About nine four hours are left in the day. What will you do with them?
No comments:
Post a Comment