In the past week, White River Junction got hit with two snowstorms. Today a hint of spring: sunny and above freezing. A serious mood-enhancer.
As usual, the workday begins with a check of the P.O. box. Another application and two checks come in. One is a donation from a couple who were helped home by Michelle when their car got stuck in front of last month’s fire downtown. The other is reimbursement for travel expenses. I am flying out to San Francisco the second weekend in April as a guest of APE, the Alternative Comics Expo.
I call two CCS faculty members to confirm the fall class schedule. One instructor, who will be commuting from Burlington, needed to push back his class so it starts after his bus arrives. All 20 students will be taking the same classes, allowing me to coordinate the curriculum. As the school continues to coalesce, I have to keep reminding myself that there is no set way things have to be done. I got hung up figuring out who should teach the drawing class. I was considering three different instructors, each with distinct strengths. One could teach academic anatomy and perspective. Another had a more intuitive, doodle-oriented approach, while the third was well-versed in art history and contemporary trends (and could teach printmaking). In the end, each of them will teach a five-week unit during the 15-week semester. It took me longer than it should have to come to this solution because it wasn’t done at the school I went to or the art and design college where I taught.
The autonomy at this early stage is exhilarating. To be able to move as quickly or as deliberately as you need to without bureaucratic interference is pretty unusual for academe. Michelle or I can hatch an idea, and unless one of us can punch some holes in it (don’t have the money, don’t have the resources, doesn’t adhere to our mission, just plain stupid), we are off and running. An example: Less than three weeks ago, with the renovation of the building that the school will occupy ahead of schedule, we decided to offer a weeklong summer class for high-school students and educators. We wrote the copy, recruited the faculty (noted Vermont cartoonists James Kochalka and Steve Bissette), designed and installed the Web page, and mailed out registration forms. This week, three people signed up.
The only hitch was an e-mail expressing surprise that the illustration I did for the Web page was a bit “off color.” The e-mailer thought the thigh was a penis. What do you think? It’s hard for me to judge my own work in this way. I certainly never saw it as a penis, but maybe the e-mailer had a point (then again, some people see penises everywhere). I decided to leave the drawing as is. I figure that if it is ambiguous, that’s probably to its advantage.
The downside of our autonomy is that resources are scant and there is no big institution to back us up—everything has to be earned. To this end, I refocus my energies this afternoon on development. I spend about an hour trying to craft a letter that succinctly introduces the school to the various foundations that we will contact over the next year. I’m always worried a foundation’s officer will immediately dismiss the school the minute they read the word “cartooning.” Although the perception of comics is changing, the word still makes some people think silly or adolescent. The letter also has to stress how the school is an important part of White River Junction’s downtown revitalization effort, mentioning the support we have from local and state government. My training as a cartoonist helps me cram a lot of info into a small amount of space—there is only so much room in that word balloon!
After working on the letter, I make some follow-up calls to potential donors. Before the first day of class—Sept. 12, 2005!—CCS needs to raise about $600,000 for building renovation and operating expenses. It’s not all that much. Consider Dartmouth College, in neighboring Hanover, N.H., which just implemented a $1 billion (no, not a typo) development campaign. So far CCS has managed to raise more than half of the $600,000 start-up capital. Most of the early funding came in on the strength of CCS’s business plan. I worked with the Vermont-based Hartland Group in formulating the plan—money well spent.
CCS continues to benefit from tremendous in-kind donations: The architectural, legal, zoning, permitting, and accounting services donated have saved the school more than $70,000. Publishers and bookstore owners have given to the schools growing library. A local bank, Chittenden, footed the bill for a CCS poster, and scores of cartoonists are donating work for both the school archive and to sell to raise cash.
Coordinating all of this means a lot of time on the phone and sending e-mail. I have yet to develop the stamina for this. In my previous life, I spent most of my working day sitting at a drawing table. Today, by late afternoon I feel dizzy.
I need to get outside and bask in the relatively warm weather (40 degrees!). Michelle and I head across the street to Vermont Salvage, a cavernous warehouse that’s like an island of lost toys for architectural remnants. We fall in love with two church pews, perfect for the entrance of our school building, the Colodny. The storeowner had read about CCS in the local paper and generously cuts us a good deal. I walk around the corner to the Colodny and grab John and Steve, two carpenter friends who are spearheading our renovation. Together we carry the pews over from the store. The walls of the classroom and offices are currently being put up. I take a seat on a pew and rest.
