Friday, July 17th was one of those magic nights where Art and Commerce came together to a common purpose: to aid the families of Gunther Jose Frank and Sean “Donnkie” Mansfield. A month prior, their boat capsized and they have never been seen since. Many of us attended the first night of the memorial weekend benefit at Boundary Bay, half-expecting the two to traipse in from the waterfront and tell us the joke was on us.
That was the lasting impression I got from my limited exposure to them. Everyone agrees: nothing to them was above a good laugh, least of all commerce. I spoke with many of the organizers, and one voiced how weird it may seem to Gunther that there was three days of bands, art and silent auctions around them. The memorial T-shirts were slim pickins by the end of the evening, and over 50 retailers and artists crowded the benches in the beer garden to offer items for the silent auction. Some merchants were trickling in even as the event was going on.
But as we talked, it occurred to me what the credo could have been. Gunther & Donnkie proved that there was Succeeding – and there was Living.
There was Profit – and there was Earning.
There was the Corporate Racket, which made money by denying as many choices as possible – and there was the Independent Hustle, which gave you your living by being in the moment with people who recognized your value.
I harp on money because Art and Commerce are both at crossroads. Many creators are left even more precarious than they would be in the past, and the merchants are about five paces behind, treading on the economic rubble – both wondering how the pursuits they chose will provide for their families, much less themselves.
But here we were. The line went around the beer garden. People were bidding. Bands were playing. Everything might get better because we were reminded again that there was something more than ourselves: there was all of us.
I finally met Melissa, the intrepid blogger who chronicled and coordinated the search… from Portland, of all places! She got to talk to Sean’s mom that night, and has details of the final memorials that will take place the following Friday 7/24. I might go, I might not. I didn’t know them very well, and that’s a day for those that loved them. Besides, if I think about it for too long, even in my limited scope, I might cry.
I just might.
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