The arts, a momentary lapse in pessimism.

I wrote the following article for The Stage, back in 2021.

A career in the arts' lower echelons can be so unrewarding that it can feel more like a masochistic fetish than a job. A Sisyphean boulder that crushes us back into the muck whenever we think we're nearing the summit. I often wonder why I put myself through it. Then I remember I'm a neurodivergent, underclass dyslexic who was expelled from school, freeing my time to pursue my youthful passions of drug addiction and homelessness. I'm justifiably unemployable in most professions; fortunately, the art world's inclusive pretences mean I tick more boxes than a Sharpie at an Amazon depot.   

I've been eking a meagre living as a freelance writer and performer since the mid-'90s. I've spent much of that time competing for work that has little to do with my practice. Employment has always been frighteningly scarce. A job pops up in my socials, and I scrabble for it with all the dignity of a rabid bin fox. I say job. It's often more a poorly conceived mood board of disparate ideas, dreamt up to help an organisation look like it cares about whatever zeitgeist social issue is currently pulling in funding. I know that all sounds exhaustingly sceptical, it's been one of those years. 2020 has given the arts a proper kicking, but it isn't all doom and gloom.

Given that economies are tanking, there's a global plague, and much of the world is literally on fire any talk of silver linings can sound annoyingly glib at the moment. Many of us have spent the last twelve months trying to make the rent by fashioning the foil off our meds into something we can sell on Etsy; so the idea that it's all some great opportunity can feel grating. Having said that, it's a new year, and I want to switch out my wretched cynicism for something less ulcerous. We can, must and will do better. Some of the kindest, smartest and most inspiring people I've ever met work in the arts, if we follow their lead, we could end up much closer to the place, that as a sector, we so volubly aspire to be.

I want to see an industry in which artists are empowered. Where there's an authentic symbiosis between performers and venues. Where artists are included in meaningful conversations—invited into meetings, even salaried if it's a good fit. I want to see venues develop careers instead of supporting individual projects. Uncultured guttersnipes like myself lack the privilege of education, we need time and space to improve our practice, build an audience and learn which fork to use. I want engagement strategies to be driven by people from diverse backgrounds with lived experience of the communities they're attempting to serve. I want to see meaningful and considered outreach programmes that don't exploit vulnerable communities and have a broader agenda than merely securing funding. I want to see the big venues and the DIY outsiders sharing skills and resources. I want us all to be smart enough to understand that we can learn from each other. I want honesty, don't promise us things you can't deliver and stop telling us our work is brave and essential if you think it's rubbish.

All these things are attainable. We just need to be clear, united and resilient. Not the kind of tough guy in a vest walking away from an explosion resilience you see in movies. True resilience isn't solely some internal force of will it's about forging and maintaining healthy and coherent relationships with those that share our vision. It's about sharing information beyond our cliques regarding what processes and platforms are genuinely sustainable. It's about knowing our worth. Never forget, you are the asset. There is hope. 2020 was an earthquake. It's 2021. There has never been a better time to rebuild.