turtling

We’re getting our only full bathroom remodelled. It’s a project that we’ve wanted to tackle since we moved to Nova Scotia in 2023, mostly because the bath ran right along the back wall of the bathroom, and that wall features a large window that looks out onto the street. Looking out also means looking in, and we developed a complex layered system of curtains to make sure that we weren’t flashing ourselves out to the neighbourhood every time we took a shower. We also had an odd wave-shaped sink with waterfall tap that we weren’t enamoured of and a ceiling fan that didn’t work properly and meant that we had to put a dehumidifier in the bathroom as well…

bathroom, before, featuring multi-curtain anti-flashing system: double layer curtain in the window. Plastic shower curtain to protect window, plastic shower curtain on other side of bathtub and then dark fabric shower curtain to complete the anti-flashing system. Hint of dehumidifier in front. Ugly sink and tap not shown.

Unsurprisingly, it’s been an intense remodel that’s involved rerouting both plumbing and electricity, all of which is more complex with a 120-year-old house. Add on to this the fact that we’re onto our third tiler: the first one had to stop due to injury of some sort and the second to a shingles diagnosis (I can’t imagine either of them are having a good time, so my best wishes to both!).

*Down to the studs and slightly back up again.*

We are reaching the end of week 3 of our remodel. We’re thankful to our pool for every other day showers, and to our kitchen sink for washing up in between. But we’re also more than ready to have our full bathroom (and our house) back!

The backdrop to our renovation is a truly horrific provincial austerity budget that guts arts, culture, tourism, and heritage. This will become important, I promise.

With all the comings and goings of plumbers and tilers and drywallers and electricians over the past three weeks, I’ve also been able to watch them work, and one thing that’s struck me is that none of them every hurry. They take the time they need. They are steady. They keep moving forward, not too slow, not too fast. What a difference that is from the academic world I left behind in 2023, where everything moves at a breakneck pace, all the time, and what a difference from what our premier and governing party envision for arts, culture, and heritage workers in this province.

*pre-tiling, when everything was a vivid orange.*

The plumbers take their time because they know a mistake can cause flooding. The tilers take their time because they know a mistake can lead to mould or rot or broken tiles or… The drywallers take their time because they don’t want the outside walls of the house to rot. The electrician needs to make sure there’s no possible risk of fire. They also all take their time because it’s why they do the work they do: it feels good to be working with wires or pipes or tiles or drywall, and if they enjoy the journey, the outcome will be that much richer.

Under our provincial government’s new budget, arts workers will need to scramble, even more than they’d been scrambling before, to get any work created. They’ll be creating in the cracks between other activities. They’ll be running, but they’ll never be able to catch up, and their work will suffer. Nova Scotia as a whole will suffer, too.

*protest sign given to me by a friend at the third rally earlier this month.*

I wonder what it would be like to be the turtle, rather than the hare. To move forward with purpose, slowly but steadily, never rushed, never pushed, at the pace that works best. I wonder what would happen if we weren’t consigned to making widgets as fast as possible, and could instead honour the journey itself with the knowledge that a good journey is necessary for a good outcome.

*rally signs, Province House, March 2026. Among other things, the budget cuts a 700,000 book publishing grant program. NS will be the only province without this kind of program.*

What are the risks to writing and creating too quickly? They’re personal, of course: we lose touch with our intentions, our passions. We can also end up taking short cuts that undermine not only our personal integrity, but also the integrity of the work we’re doing. Taking shortcuts also limits creative and critical possibility; we may not be able to tell the stories that need telling or do the research that really needs doing. We stay on the surface, and in the process undermine our own foundations.

There were many parents at the rally: the cuts affect young people - our future - deeply. Artists in the schools programs, which bring writers, dancers, visual artists and others to schools around the province, have not just seen their funding reduced; the programs have been completely cut.

All of this sounds ephemeral. It doesn’t sound like it matters at all. But, as I wrote in a letter to the my MLA, the Minister of Culture, Communities, Tourism and Heritage, and the Premier, we are our stories. Arts, culture, and heritage are the stories of us. They are who we are, in our deepest hearts of hearts. (I won’t even get into the economic benefits of investing in arts, culture, and heritage, because those are more than well known, and the government, while supposedly interested in the economy, doesn’t seem to care anyway. If you want to read more, though, here’s a good starting point)

Arts workers can’t just run faster and faster trying to catch up. We can’t shortcut the creative process. We can’t shortcut who we are. Like the various workers who are coming to our house every day, we need time to do our jobs and to do them well. We need time and space to observe, reflect, think, organize, dream, and create. Otherwise, our houses will burn. They’ll flood. They’ll rot. And they’ll collapse.

There’s still time to write to the Premier, Finance Minister, Minister of Culture, Communities, Tourism, and Heritage, and also to your MLA, especially if you have a Conservative MLA. The NS Arts Coalition has helpful resources here.

rules