by Kelley Merriam Castro
Robert Cantwell's comparison of the ways in which the Smithsonian promoted its Folklife Festival in promotional videos from the 1960s and the 1980s led me to seek out a more recent promotion to add to the mix. Cantwell's description of the 1960s promotional video highlights a discomfort with modernity, with the loss of pre-capitalist handicraft and traditions, while the 1980s video expresses a more celebratory tone, promising a happy, fun-filled adventure for visitors who come to experience the variety of cultures presented at the event. To explore another, more recent rendition of the festival's self-lore, I found the following introductory video for the 2011 event:
Robert Cantwell's comparison of the ways in which the Smithsonian promoted its Folklife Festival in promotional videos from the 1960s and the 1980s led me to seek out a more recent promotion to add to the mix. Cantwell's description of the 1960s promotional video highlights a discomfort with modernity, with the loss of pre-capitalist handicraft and traditions, while the 1980s video expresses a more celebratory tone, promising a happy, fun-filled adventure for visitors who come to experience the variety of cultures presented at the event. To explore another, more recent rendition of the festival's self-lore, I found the following introductory video for the 2011 event:
Here, the festival celebrates itself and the city that hosts it. The festival is in its 45th year in one of the "most visited" cities with many things to see free of cost (with no mention of the cost of traveling to and staying in Washington). The folk life festival is a "crown jewel," representing a "museum without walls," where a "cultural conversation" may take place. The festival orients itself globally -- it is "world renowned," and features representation from 80 nations in addition to its national emphasis.
Not surprisingly, the tone of the 2011 promotion differs significantly from those of 1968 and 1982. Where 1960s festival organizers sought a utopian refuge from the dehumanizing pace of modernity, and 1980s promoters highlighted the fun and adventure of exploring cultural differences, the 2011 theme draws our attention to the idea of a global dialogue -- not only in the festival's self-promotion as a conversation between cultures, but also in its triad of selected themes: Colombia, the Peace Corps, and Rhythm & Blues. The Colombian focus gives festival-goers the experience of the foreign and exotic "them," bringing performers, artists and other cultural artifacts from the northern edge of South America (albeit without abandoning the comforts of the home country). The 50th anniversary of the Peace Corps celebrates a national "us" going out to "them," teaching, interacting, and sending individual ambassadors to have a one-one-one, daily lived experience outside the protective framework of U.S. boundaries. Finally, Rhythm and Blues celebrates a tradition from a national "us" -- not the young caucasian, well-educated, middle-to-upper-class "us" that frequents these festivals (according to Charles Camp and Timothy Lloyd), but an exotic, groovy, raw, deep-dark-skinned "us" whose gravelly voices and soulful lyrics pierce deep into the emotional limits of the disadvantaged human experience, while unanticipated pops from syncopated, hyperbolic and multirhythmic harmonies keep the listener on an anticipatory edge.
The directionality of these selections is clear -- representatives from Colombia come to talk, sing, present and teach us about their country; Peace Core volunteers infiltrate communities of others one by one to teach and guide (volunteers also learn, but the intended direction of the Peace Corps education is one-directional from the U.S. to the target country); and the U.S. Rhythm and Blues singers have added a new and unique musical genre to the global repertoire of musical style. Perhaps this is a cultural conversation, as the organizers intended. Yet somehow, experiencing Colombia under the shade of festival tents; celebrating volunteers who temporarily resided in an underdeveloped region and then returned home; and highlighting the international appeal of a U.S. musical genre make the dialogue feel a bit one-sided.
Despite this criticism, one must grant credit to the intention behind the event, and recognize that the mere desire to create a folk festival that celebrates an inclusive society and a diverse, global community has a value in itself. Folk festivals have been criticized for their stereotypical imagery, and imperfect educational messages. Yet the immediately recognizable alternative -- not having folk festivals at all -- hardly seems like a step in the right direction.
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