Paris in Philadelphia? OK, but why?

I can't remember the words or the tune to "April in Philadelphia," most likely because that song hasn't been written yet. But Philadelphians may well find ourselves spontaneously humming "April in Paris," because the Philadelphia International Festival of the Arts is upon us, and its focus is Paris between 1910 to 1920.

Which begs a simple question: Why?

Not "Why the festival?"— which, according to PIFA's catalogue, was made possible by a $10 million grant from the late Leonore Annenberg for "a city-wide celebration of the arts." That gift is indeed hugely generous, and the festival will undoubtedly be a wonderful memorial to the late publishing magnate's widow.

And not "Why Paris rather than some other world-class city?" After all, if you must revere any city's cultural riches and heritage, it might as well be those of the City of Light.

But let's not fool ourselves. Philadelphians need not hang Billy Penn's hat on the Eiffel Tower in order to celebrate the arts in our own town. The proof is in PIFA's staggering offerings: The festival lasts nearly a month, with 135 events and functions and some 1,500 participating artists, the large majority of them reportedly local.

Artistic immigrants

That's actually a better record than Paris produced, by PIFA's own account. The Festival's credo calls the 1910-20 decade "the age of Picasso, Chagall, Stravinsky, Diaghilev and Matisse." Not a native Parisian in that quintet, and only one who was born in France.

Maybe that period should be called "the decade of the artistic immigrants," and PIFA— in response to America's current anti-immigrationists— should stand for an explicit welcome to newcomers, with all their drive, talents, and invention. (One Festival event, geared to kids, features a musical titled Ellis Island: Gateway to the Dream.)

And are Philadelphians really ready for that bygone era's "artistic energy"? (This phrase must have been devised by a PR firm, because it appears in so many promotional articles about PIFA.) After all, the premiere performance of Stravinsky's Rite of Spring in 1913 provoked one of classical music's most famous riots (fistfights in the aisles, would you believe?). Picasso in 1911 was questioned by police in the theft of the Mona Lisa from the Louvre (a crime that appears in two PIFA plays).

Quest for a theme

Paris of that decade might make fodder for good art today, and it might pull our emotional strings, and we might even learn something about the past and about ourselves. But as an overarching theme of a major festival, I don't get it.

I felt spun, most of all when I passed by the 81-foot model of the Eiffel Tower in the Kimmel Center lobby. The thousands of lights hadn't been lit yet, for which I'm thankful. "So what does this theme mean to me?" I asked, before abbreviating the question to: "So what?"

Excuses for celebration

I sympathize with the Kimmel Center folk, who, if they didn't invent this theme, surely must support it fully. Central concepts are intended, I guess, to concentrate our attention, arouse interest, and suggest a strategy (down with randomness!).

If a university has four professors working on even vaguely overlapping projects, it forms a "center" so that a grant proposal from any one of them seems to enjoy scholarly weight and authority.

If an institution is celebrating its 30th or 125th or nth year, it collects every activity that year under an anniversary rubric, even though it might not have created a single new event to truly commemorate itself.

In 2009, Philadelphia hosted the Year of Evolution, which honored the 200th anniversary of Charles Darwin's birth and the 150th year of the publication of On the Origin of Species. Penn, the Philadelphia Zoo, the Academy of Natural Sciences, the American Philosophical Society and the unheralded Wagner Free Institute of Science, among others, produced events that were conveniently grouped as part of the Year. I might not have thought of the Wagner during that entire period if it hadn't been for that unifying umbrella and, of course, the joint publicity.

Rozin's mockery

So I appreciate the idea and understand the need to rally around a banner. And I'm aware that not every last one of PIFA's events seems related to Paris at all. Indeed, some seem to even mock the idea, like Seth Rozin's A Passing Wind, based on the Frenchman Joseph Pujol's early-20th-Century career as a "fartiste" (it's a musical, of course).

But through all this faux-Parisian cultural sound and fury, the fact remains: Philadelphia in 2010 has the genuine cultural goods— all on its own. PIFA itself is proof.

We don't need to emulate Paris to pull off a fantastic PIFA. With all that PIFA is bringing us, I'm glad to live in this city in this hour. Here's to the Festival, and here's to Philadelphia.♦


To read a related commentary by Robert Zaller, click here.
To read a response, click here.