By Max Himsl
As we have seen, this is a group that is seeking to subvert long tradition of keeping art and artists in the basement where they belong. These social misfits instead plan to expose the clean, innocent minds of the public to some of the most imaginative, some would say warped, minds that have been hidden in the cellars and garrets where Weyburn’s finest artists are normally kept chained.
Knowing what we now know of the board members, should we not now be concerned for the health of the community? The ArtFarm IV board members have vowed to change minds.
Do we, as a community, actually want our minds changed? What is so great about beauty and joy anyway and, for that matter, shouldn’t we celebrate ignorance and ugliness in equal measure, just to be properly inclusive? Questions continue to swirl around the secretive motives behind this controversial event even as the so-called “volunteer” labour gangs swing into action, preparing the so-called “farm” for the mass brain-washing event scheduled to take place in just under four weeks. With our minds uneasy from the examination of the peculiar people staging this unorthodox spectacle let us stiffen our dispassionate lip and look into some of the surprises awaiting the unwary visitor.
Approaching the ArtFarm compound from Weyburn will be a terrible ordeal for many unseasoned travelers since clearly written directions may only be found in many locations. Even when such directions are found and followed meticulously it is easy to miss the large directional signs and ignore the festival traffic using the access road and instead find oneself in Oungre by mistake.
Error rectified, this reporter approached the ArtFarm yard with some trepidation. The house itself is ancient, at least a hundred years old, but has a hair raising air of unnatural preservation about it. If it was painted black, had spires with bats flying about and was perched on a hill during a midnight electrical storm it would be a frightening place. Instead, in bright sunshine with birds singing, flowers blooming and butterflies fluttering about, its’ malevolence well hidden, lulling the uncritical observer into happy, bucolic tranquility.
Similar in congruencies abound throughout the property. Take, for example, the barn. To outward appearances this simple cowshed looks like nothing more than shelter for grazing animals.
However, a peek through a window reveals chandeliers. Chandeliers! What sort of barn has chandeliers, I ask you? There is a horse corral with a performing arts stage, a very very suspicious green house suspiciously empty of plants, and another huge sound stage … What strange experiments are these people performing on harmless horses, dogs and cats? Will the innocent people of Weyburn and southeastern Saskatchewan be next?
The visit to the ArtFarm compound on this occasion was to observe the actions of a “work party” preparing the grounds for the upcoming annual celebration. While there was certainly activity in evidence, it would be a stretch to call it working. People were painting and repairing the run-down shacks around the property and cleaning up rubbish and offal, it’s true, but no angry supervisors were in evidence and the so-called workers were enthusiastic and cheerful.
The friendly, relaxed atmosphere began to affect my senses and I could feel the tightness in my belly and back loosening, relaxing and something strange happened to my face, my lips curving upwards …
Horrified, this reporter fled! Some kind of drug, a chemical, something in the air, perhaps. It was like some kind of euphoria taking hold and it was only hours later when cynicism and resignation reasserted their familiar hold that I knew I was alright. With firm resolve I will return to Art Farm IV. The facts must be known!
