Pages

WHY HOUSE CULTURE?

By Michael Holt


what's house culture?

To me, House Culture simply means doing stuff together, face-to-face, and at each other's homes; instead of alone, online, or in commercial venues. It can be normal activities like cooking, playing games, or listening to music; or less common things like a clothing swap, shadow puppet-making workshop, or meeting about how to lower our neighbourhood's carbon footprint. The activities can be cultural in the artistic sense of the word – as in a comedy, dance, or theatre show – or just because they're done together, as with a yoga class, singles night, or work party.

House Culture is ultimately about bringing people together. Those of us who've experienced it have seen a magical feeling of connection between people that's uncommon in this society. It's the special wonder that arises when folks engage in an inclusive, openhearted activity, held together by the boundaries of a small, comfortable space.

Such shared experiences renew our faith in life, reminding us of what really matters. And this has the potential to transform how we relate to ourselves, each other, the arts, community, society, and our planet.

House culture is not the only route to meaningful togetherness. But it is a pretty sure one, which is why we at the Festival want to share it as widely as we can.

I first encountered the growing trend of home-based culture as a musician looking for ways to connect more intimately with audiences. When I did my first house concert, I found it was better than normal gigs in so many ways that I eventually gave up playing in commercial venues altogether. I've now organized several house concert tours and played in hundreds of living rooms across North America and Europe. 

In 2009, a friend and I co-founded The Piano Salon, a series combining live music with conversations on diverse topics, each month at a different Toronto home. The addition of intentional conversation created something more than a typical house concert, and we gradually realized that the home could be a cool venue for all kinds of culture. In 2014 we put on Toronto's first annual Festival of House Culture, which repeated in 2015. We've had everything from live improvised video art, indie pop bands, and a workshop on gender roles, to poetry readings, potluck dinners, and a madrigal singing class, all in people's living spaces.

The purpose of the festival is to encourage artists, arts enthusiasts, activists, and community-minded people – anyone interested in having more fulfilling cultural exchanges, connecting more effectively with others about something you care about, building community in your area, or just having fun – to check out House Culture as a route to all this.

To post and find out about Toronto house events throughout the year, join our Facebook group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/torontohouseculture.

why do house culture?

Houses and apartments offer many advantages over meeting places like community centres, churches, and conference rooms; arts venues like museums, clubs, and concert halls; social spots like restaurants, bars, and cafes; and cyber-spaces like video games, texting windows, and online music services. Some of these arenas are formal, stiff and uncomfortable, and tend to separate the presenter from the rest of the group, rather than bringing people together. Others are overstimulating, full of distractions like signage, advertising, TVs, espresso machines, constant commerce and consumption, and crowds of people coming and going. And others discourage face-to-face interaction and any commitment to being together.

Togetherness. The coziness, calm, and comfort of home, on the other hand, helps us come together in a more meaningful, interactive, and enjoyable engagement with arts, activities, ideas, and each other. The small size of most living rooms physically brings us closer, limiting distractions, facilitating listening and responding, and discouraging people from exiting whenever they feel like it. The informality of home, the softness of couches and armchairs, and the vulnerability of someone opening their living space to us, all inspire us to let down our guard and be a little more real with each other. 

Music sounds better. Almost every time I've brought an experienced musician to their first house concert, they've said, "You know, this is a great sounding room, really good acoustics!"  Without realizing it, they're simply responding to the intimacy of a small space – and the absence of microphones, PA speakers, and sonic distractions like people talking around a bar. 

Better audiences. Another common comment from first-time performers at house events is, "What a great group of people! They're so openminded, such good listeners, and they interacted so much with what I was doing!" I've come to believe that what makes good audience it not the particular people present, but the quality of the environment. Take any "tough crowd" of apathetic, distracted, urban hipsters talking amongst themselves in a club or bar, or well-to-do seniors clapping perfunctorily in a classical concert hall, and pack them into a living room, and they'll respond in a completely different way – much more sensitively, energetically, and genuinely. 

True, you can't fit huge crowds into a home. But I think it's often better to create a strong connection among fewer people than a weak connection among many. And the network of friends, family, and neighbours around a private home will often yield a larger group then what you could expect at a public place anyway. People are usually more attracted to going to a party at their friend's house than to an event at a commercial venue.

Better meetings and presentations. Because of the ease with which ideas can flow and enthusiasm can build when folks get together in a small, comfortable space, houses can be ideal settings for meetings, activist projects, or presentations. And starting such events with a meal or live music can be even better, helping everyone relax into the mood for participation. Do you have a group that meets regularly, but you want more people than a living room would hold? Incubate it at home until you're really getting those numbers. 

When an acquaintance of mine was having a hard time organizing a Toronto talk and exhibition for her friend, a painter from Peru, I suggested she do it in her own living room. The resulting gathering was more interactive, warm, and effective than it would have been in a cafe or gallery.

Better Socializing. We think of bars as good social spots, but their loud music, constant turnover of strangers, and darkness (all used to maximize booze sales) actually impedes real connection. Home, on the other hand, is not just a great place for the programming in an event (like the music in a house concert). It's also better in many ways for the hanging out that naturally takes place before and after the main activity. A living room is far more comfortable than most public and commercial places, and with a lot fewer distractions, making it much easier for people to relax and connect. And House Culture, with its shared activities, gives people something to talk about, making it a lot easier to start conversation with strangers and make new friends.

Turning neighbourhoods into communities. In these times of global economic precariousness, social alienation, and environmental crisis, strong local community is an increasingly important source of material security, meaningful connection, and lower-carbon living. I believe that an intentional return to the age-old practice of hanging out and doing things together at each other's homes can be a great way to meet our neighbours and build community within our area.

Having neighbours over for food, music and other activities breaks the ice and provides an ideal forum for talking about local issues, not to mention being fun. It also builds trust. One of the essential differences between traditional community and modern alienation is our reluctance to extend hospitality to folks we don't know. Yet in all my years of organizing House Culture, I've never known a host to regret having strangers in their home, even when the whole city was invited through ads in the paper, flyers on the street, and public Facebook pages. Quite the contrary. Part of what is so special about House Culture is how good it feels to drop our habitual mistrust, open our homes, and experience the sweet sense of community that follows.

I was recently appointed Community Building Officer for my local neighbours' association, and my main goal is to get us to hold some of our meetings (which I think have been dry, boring, and therefore unattractive to the average resident) crowded into kitchens or living rooms, tossing visions and ideas about in productive chaos. As it is, we sit politely following Robert's Rules of Order with our hands folded around a giant square table in an antiseptic classroom, that we have to pay for, and we don't even get tea and cookies.

In 2012 I got interested in Transition Towns, a movement of people trying to build local community by rallying neighbours around the cause of sustainability, and also harnessing community as a way to grow environmental, economic, and social sustainability. I toured 35 of the movement's European initiatives. In each town, I put on a concert at someone's home, leading into a conversation about Transition, for the benefit of local activists, people not familiar with the movement, or both. The music attracted people who wouldn't normally come to a political meeting, and the conversations were intimate and inclusive.

The Festival of House Culture is very neighbourhood-focused. Wherever it takes place, events are sequential and clustered within walking distance, so neighbours can easily attend several of them. And each area strongly cross-promotes its own events through local flyering, list-serves, Facebook groups, billing them as great opportunities to meet your neighbours.

During the 2015 festival, we held a neighbourhood Gift Circle, a simple tool for economic localization. First we went around saying goods and services we wanted or needed (home repairs, a kid's guitar, special diet cooking, . . . ), and anyone well positioned to provide them spoke up ("I know a good local handyperson"; "we have a guitar you could borrow"; "let's cook together"). Then we announced our talents, skills, and passions, as well as stuff we needed to get rid of, and this led to further connections. The amount of perfect matches that arose was astonishing.

Lower carbon. House events can also be a low-carbon source of culture. Twenty people enjoying a night of live music, food, and conversation at a neighbour's home will use less energy than if they go to a half-filled club across town outfitted with lights, screens, and a high-watt sound system;  even less than if they cook separately and stay in, watching TV in numerous individually lit and heated homes.

More empowering. And they'll be making their own culture. The more intimate, interactive nature of house events means that everyone present plays a bigger role in what happens. The hosts can choose artists they like and activities that mean something to them; the guests can offer comments, questions, and requests; and the performers or presenters can respond to these, resulting in an experience that's more relevant and empowering for all. 

As the 2015 festival was coming together, a friend of mine asked if we could fit in readings by four distinguished Ethiopian journalists who'd recently arrived in our neighbourhood as refugees. Arranging this in a commercial venue might have been complicated, but we easily made space for them at an event that also featured live chamber music and a home cooked meal. The refugees felt welcomed by the neighbourhood, the guests felt comfortable saying when we should pause for translations during a film they showed us, and we all got into a fascinating conversation about Ethiopian and Canadian culture.

By making our own culture, we remove the "middle man" and become independent of publishing houses, film studios, agents, high-overhead venues, etc. In events where donations are collected, this means more money for performers while being cheaper for everyone else.  As a musician, I do much better at house concerts than I used to at commercial establishments, while my audiences get to be part of something more participatory, acoustically pleasing, and economical then they'd get a theatre, cinema or concert hall. 

I'm not recommending we give up the great, international culture-makers we encounter through large-scale commerce and technology. I'm saying that in focusing only on sources of culture like TV, movies, museums, and the internet, we are missing a great deal, including some very talented, unrecognized artists who may be hidden in our own communities. 

Many years ago, most upper- and middle-class homes in the Western world had a piano, where families and friends would gather around for group singing, dancing, and socializing. The living room was a focal point for creative expression, skills, togetherness, traditions, storytelling, news, and enjoyment. We can have this again. We don't need big corporations to spoon-feed us our culture. We can make it ourselves in our own homes, neighbourhoods and lives.

No comments:

Post a Comment