ARTSFEST ’85 SHOWS OFF MELTING POT AROUND US
David Polinchock
Helping retailers/brands understand emerging tech impacting physical space, including AR/metaverse, payment tech | RETHINK Retail Top Retail Expert | RTIH Retail Influencer | Writing book on 3rd place w/Sydney Polinchock
39 years ago, we wrapped up the very first Orlando International Artsfest 85! It was something I worked very hard to help create and I was the director of the festival. It was (and in many ways, still is) my largest undertaking, with about 250,000 people attending the 3 day event. We had several hundred performances across multiple stages, from local performers to top name entertainment. It was an operational challenge, to turn the streets of downtown Orlando into a festival landscape and the team that pulled it all together was incredible, with Bettina Buckley & Tylor Wymer leading the tech charge. They were both very talented people who lead many of the great experiences on WDW parks. My partner in crime for this event, Cid Stoll not only created an amazing educational program for the festival, but truly was a partner in making sure it actually happened!
Sadly, the festival did not survive beyond the 2nd year, but boy that first festival was both an incredible event and an incredible learning experience.
Late in the evening, as we were still on the streets breaking everything down, the Orlando Sentinel was being delivered, it had a headline about Bob Morris and his review of the event. He could be snarky and we were all a little worried, but when we opened up the paper to see what he wrote, well, read for yourself. I'm sorry the festival did not survive, but it definitely made a very positive impact on the city and helped the arts thrive in Orlando.
ARTSFEST ’85 SHOWS OFF MELTING POT AROUND US
April 29, 1985, Orlando Sentinel.
I had the strangest vision of Orlando the other night. The downtown streets were full of people (mind you, this is Saturday night) and these people were of many races, ages and backgrounds. They were speaking dozens of different languages and hundreds of dialects of English. I could have sworn I had wandered into an illustration in a civics textbook.
It was either a dream or Artsfest ’85. I’ll assume it was the latter.
Like most people, I love street festivals, but I’m wary of them. I’ve hit some great ones, from the Italian North End of Boston to Japantown in San Francisco. I’ve eaten some mighty strange food in jostling crowds and loved every minute of the experience, even though most of the food ended up on my shirt.
Then there’s the other kind of street festival. I won’t name any names, but you know the kind I mean. Those street festivals usually aren’t built around specific ethnic groups, so the food tends to be blah. That is, if you can get any. The food-and-drink situation usually is so bad that it calls for humanitarian airlifts. The best you can hope for is a chance to mill.
Although I expected very little of Artsfest ’85, I am happy to report that it was a real street festival, a great street festival — for my money, right up there with the best. In some ways, it was better than the big-city ethnic festivals (emphasis mine).
This was my city, my region. These were the people of virtually every ethnic group and community in Central Florida, turning out to strut their stuff, cook their foods and have a good time. This was the real Epcot Center (emphasis mine). It is easy to forget that Central Florida is a melting pot, or salad bowl, of people of different nationalities and races. This is not the land of Beaver Cleaver it sometimes seems. Funny, we go to Epcot to see representations and misrepresentations of different cultures, when those cultures and more are right here, all around us, among us and within us.
领英推荐
In many ways, Artsfest ’85 emulated the Epcot model. The presentation of each culture was abbreviated and perhaps a bit stereotyped, at least to the casual observer. But there was more.
There were more cultures, for one thing, and a mild attempt at geographical organization (however, the Israeli booth and the Syrian-Lebanese booth were at opposite ends of Orange Avenue). The Thai, Chinese and Vietnamese booths were clustered around the band shell at Lake Eola. On Jefferson Street, Colombian-style chicken was roasting across from a booth selling Puerto Rican flags, which was right next to a Chilean booth selling beautiful little Christmas tree ornaments woven from horsehair.
I wasn’t aware that there was a Chilean community in Central Florida. The man in the booth told me that there are about 35 Chilean families here.
Okay, it was a hokey ethnic festival, with native costumes and kielbasa and mariachi bands, right? Well, not exactly. It was more than the sum of its food and entertainment. For a little of what this real Epcot was like, we carry you to India by the side of Lake Eola.
A classical Indian dance company, the Kathak Dance Company of Los Angeles, is performing on the stage of the band shell. Nine women in bright silk outfits, each with 5 pounds of bells on each ankle, are dancing in praise of Lord Shiva. The cooling evening air of central Orlando is set into hypnotic vibration by a tabla, a harmonium, 90 pounds of bells on disciplined feet and a machine-gun chant of classical Hindi.
The audience, half Indian, half everything else, is awestruck. That is, except for seven teen-age girls sitting in front of me. They are of Indian descent, with dark, beautiful features similar to the dancers on stage. They are wearing jeans, however, not silks. While the lead dancer on stage chants in classical Hindi, the girls chatter away in classical teen American. Their enthusiasm leads me to believe that the conversation is about boys, not Indian dance.
Artsfest ’85 was a cultural festival, but more than that it was a festival of acculturation. You’ll never see a more American street festival.
For me, the festival was pretty well summed up by a Bavarian band playing in front of the Bavarian Schnitzel House. These guys in lederhosen sang a song with a chorus that went like this: “Buona sera, senorita, comment ca va, shuby shu bop, shuby shu bop.”
I couldn’t say it better.