Monday, August 25, 2008

Interview - Pt 2

The following is a transcription of an interview we did with a friend who was taking a Human Geography class at UBC and asked us some questions about cultural infrastructure, et al. Apologies for the frankness of it all!

Credit: Zuzia Juszkiewicz, Undergrad.
Under the Direction of Prof. Kathrine Richardson, UBC
Class: Off Campus Research in Human Geography

APPENDIX III
Interview with Jesse Scott Former Butchershop Member

Z: To frame: Can you tell me about the Butchershop and its gallery mandate?

J: Sure, it was a preexisting space that I was involved in taking over. It had operated for almost two years when Forbes Lattimer (the proprietor) had a number of opportunities outside of Vancouver and was not going to be able to further dedicate the time for the space. Basically, he created a list of people that he knew would be possible substitutes and sent out an invitation. We had a big meeting and some of us knew each other already and some of us didn’t. There was probably 40 people that first showed up and 20 of us found a common cause and decided to go for it. There were so many people involved with so many different backgrounds and levels of experience, aptitudes, genres and subcultures that we were involved in. That was all brought to the table – so it was a melting pot of ideas and artistic disciplines.

The Butchershop was an essentially a multidisciplinary art space. We were looking at the ideas of art run culture, closely examining the road map of what a space like us could turn into. We only really saw one model within Vancouver which was the Artist-Run Center, a model we had some reservations about. In the end we decided not to go that way, although the debate resurfaced a dozen times over the two operating years. The mandate was to be a creative space, to show work local and from out of town communities that didn’t have the same kind of space. We did a huge variety of events, workshops, screenings, art, and music event – all across the board. Eventually it became a victim of its own success.

Z: What did you get out of your participation in the Butchershop?

J: It was interesting for me. It was at a point where I had not been involved in…well, my history throughout the couple years before the Butchershop that had been focused within media art, sound art, and electronic music; as well as in radical politics in Vancouver and coalitions. It was interesting to come back to the Butchershop because it was resurfacing those small politics of groups. I definitely knew maybe 3 people over the collective before hand, I think I knew the most. Later the larger group [in the collective] distilled to 12 people for the bulk of the time frame. It was great for meeting new people, finding common friends and talking about how to expand our national network over Vancouver art scene. Being able to work in a group like that and having the possibility was great. It really connected me to a grassroots scene in Vancouver and beyond. Definitely made some good connections with Seattle and Portland and Montreal and New York. It broadened my scope. It was a good time…and lots of free beers.

Z: Oh yea lots of good times. Mirae I think that is where we first met.

M: Oh yea we must have.

Z: I saw you dance there! So many memories, seems like such long time ago. Ok, Jesse can you describe the social formation among Butchershop members: how did you organize yourselves, delegate tasks…?

J: That’s an interesting thing. We quasi-adopted a structure that Forbes recommended, just because he was in position of power and influence in terms, he was logistically minded. Some of the rest of us weren’t and some of use were, but no one was really willing to step up and make policy directive. So we rolled with his ideas. We formed three major sub committees of programming: exhibitions, music and events. We had a ‘developments committee’ that was working on possibility of grants, we had a treasurer who was keeping track of the books making sure they were ok. We communicated over a group mailing list and we had meetings every week, every Tuesday at 7 – which involved a lot of hawkers and lot of booze. And, ya know, we were essentially pretty unproductive. Yea, haha, I took minutes almost all the time and I have back logs of minutes. I look through them sometimes and find jokes that I had put into them.

[Jesse sits back comfortably, takes a sip of scotch and snickers]

Z: Can you please share?

J: Yea, totally. It was interesting relationship too because at our peak there were 21 people and at our lowest 8 people. There was 12 -15 generally but people opted in and out. The great thing was by having many people you were kind of allowed that space. What I mean is that sometimes I would be overwhelmed with another project when New Forms came up in September or if had a lot of work. Most of us were working at the same time as well, so you could step back a little bit like up to a month or 2 months at time. So other people could take the reigns - other people could take minutes or do press promo which I, say, had started with but had no time to finish. And then when I came back, I would jump back on something and somebody else could take some time off. It was great, self regulated mechanism that was really unspoken and kind of like an unwritten law. But it was pretty effective, even if it was frustrating sometimes, because sometimes we all could have benefited from some people being there, from someone else’s experience. So I could say that some members took liberties with that in terms of being “you know 12 other people are there, therefore I can skip out on this tonight.” But there was almost healthy discrepancies in terms of give and take, in general a pretty effective and fair experiment. I kind of thought of it in social and political terms: if we were some type Marxist experiment or some type of a commune or something like that; it would have kept itself running, we were going through some ups and downs, and some peaks and valleys, a little built of resentment – but essentially people knew when it was it was getting towards a breaking point and responded.

Z: What is the history behind Butchershop’s closure?

J: Like I said eventually it became victim of its own success. Uhh. We got too popular for our own good. We had been dealing with a building inspector, Adrian Buchanan for going on 2 years. He was pretty cool, he appreciated what we were doing but he agreed to turn a blind eye. He said: “Keep it under wraps as long as I don’t get a report about you on my desk! I don’t know who you are, I am not gonna actively enforce any bylaws against you.”

Z: How did he find you guys in the first place?

J: From Forbes, don’t know exactly. Whether Forbes approached him or whether he came to us from a complaint. But…Forbes had known him and had a relationship with him before we took over. Essentially, we were forced within the funded model to be a little booze can and a little bit of music space, things that were not legal for us to be doing. We never made any money off of booze, to be honest. It was more of a draw to get people in there. A chance that people brought there own booze anyway, it was a space that you saw people drink their own mickies of stuff, and ‘ah, faah thanks for supporting’. Basically after the NPA got elected in January 05, he [Buchanan?] came around and said: “There is going to be more tension on guys just so you know, I might come by with my boss sometimes.” Shortly after, we got our third noise complaint in 3 years, from the same residence on 26th. Somebody had thrown a beer can in to her rose bushes – and she took offense to that and made a complaint, it ended up on Buchanan’s desk. The boss showed up to the next art opening, which was a Parliament of Owl Show, in Dec 05. There was coffee and tea being served, there was an acoustic musician and there were kids blowing bubbles. There was a little sculpture, toys and sowing stuff. They said: “No this is illegal. Just cut it!” We were told that the Butchershop is basically outside of the zoning district. We were given a 30 day ultimatum of cease and desist order and [Jesse pauses and pinches his lips]...
We were basically ordered to engage in dialogue about zoning and upgrading with initial estimate of 80 000 dollars in fees – their quote [Jesse’s voice rises, an emphasis, perhaps a hint of resentment and cynicism] - to begin initiating a process and not finish the construction, with permits and their surveys from their people. They gave us a month to enter a dialogue with them and pay 80 000 dollars or to vacate, or to cease operations. We effectively ceased operations and we did not really vacate for another month. We floated the space for another month, and just realized there was no way we could continue to try and even raise funds to support ourselves with this order, let alone try raise 80 000 dollars.

Z: That is impossible. Especially for a place that is not making money, totally ridiculous.

J: Yea.

Z: What did you feel when it was shut down, what was lost?

J: I used it, as did all of us, as platform for my own creation and practice and as my own studio. So yea, I lost a studio, I lost a platform for my own creation and bringing in my own community, which at that point was an independent, experimental media arts into the space. I knew right away that even though we made gestures towards moving on to another space, or being a just producing team or starting a new collective was just not going to happen. I knew that certain people were on cusps of other things and in sense certain people were tired of catering to a majority or within politics. Certain people just wanted to fuck around or get out of the city. So I knew it was over, even though we pretended it wasn’t for 3 or 4 months.

Z: after you lost the space?

J: Yea, after. So I knew that without a space, without a platform that the community had been dissolved. People that I had grown really close to and struggled to do a lot of stuff with. I just knew we were going to drift a part with and we did.

Z: So there was some hope?

J: Yes and no. We had a really pragmatic view, a realist view about the realities of having a space. And we looked for spaces for about a month and half. And really realized we could not raise a capital to try get a space to do what we wanted it to do.

Z: And this new space…would you have created it by the book?

J: We were attempting to, but we realized that the ceiling level for that was something we couldn’t stand on each other’s shoulders and reach. We were trying to get a space with a cabaret license in order to fund ourselves - then no. The other option was to float a space and stay in the Butchershop for about 3 years, without doing any major public events, without music, without alcohol, without major revenue builders – to even start to qualify for any public assistance through Arts Councils. We weren’t willing to do that, to try and float things around for another 3 years, and then yea we couldn’t afford the capital investment for getting cabaret license for a space. It was out our reach.

Z: Thanks Jesse thank you for sharing. I recall so many memories.

J: I know every time I speak about it…

Z: I know…

J: Definitely good times

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