Getting Away with Art

Space. It’s something that most artists have to contend with at some point. Whether it’s a painter weighing her options about getting a studio, a drummer trying to work out where he can practice, or a choir stretching their budget for more time in a rehearsal room, the place where we make art is important. It’s also costly. In my time running a theatre company, it was a constant source of pressure, and a constant promise at the end of the rainbow. With our own theatre building we’d have a space accessible whenever we needed it for rehearsal, could program anything we wanted, and could rent it out to other companies and groups; it meant artistic freedom. The other side of this grim equation was the inevitable pile of difficulties and expenses of maintaining a physical object as large as a building. It’s a challenge the creative sector has struggled with since the beginning. It’s also something that the alternative, independent and autonomous spaces around Amsterdam and other cities have been so good in recognising and supporting. 

Means
Despite this support, however, times are hard. In the current climate, with a pandemic coming hard on the heels of years of budget and funding cuts, we’ve all heard the cries from all corners of the arts. But it’s also true that at its core, the practice of art is decoupled from an economic incentive. Yes, there are large and established companies, an ITA or a Cirque du Soleil, that are clearly businesses, but a small community group files a tax return just like those giants. The difference between them is that large companies generally have large sponsors (Air Canada and Mastercard for Cirque du Soleil, Rabobank and Clifford Chance for ITA), who support their activities financially, and small companies who mostly have members that support their activities with unpaid time. In both cases, the economics simply doesn’t work on ticket sales alone. In fact, I’ve yet to hear of an example throughout history, reaching all the way back to the ancient Greek theatre, when the arts didn’t rely on public, private or noble/royal patronage to survive alongside ticket sales. If you have one, I would dearly love to hear it, and take a good long look at their business model.

Instead, we recognise either that art has value outside of the economic case (and companies can look good by supporting it), or that as artists we have a drive to create that isn’t linked to an income (although sure, if it can become and income, fantastic!). In some ways I’m astounded that enough people manage to make the business side work; that we have the cultural scene we do, even during ‘good’ times…

But we started by thinking about space. I made theatre when I had no money, which also meant having no dedicated space. I did, however, know people who had offices that weren’t used in the evenings, and didn’t mind so much what happened as long as all the tables and chairs were back in the right places the next morning. I’ve rehearsed outside, in living rooms, I’ve auditioned people standing outside Amsterdam Centraal. And I’m not the only one. The grass roots of creation has worked in the streets across the world.

Motive
As a current example, Extinction Rebellion (XR) have taken on a form of protest that is by turns disruptive and theatrical, entering the public space and demanding an opinion. As one element of their work, they create living political satire cartoons, presented to an audience in public, free from the usual filter bubbles of our chosen newspapers, TV channels and social media feeds. I would be surprised if these public performances were created in airy and well-lit rehearsal rooms. Instead, I imagine an autonomous space somewhere, or in these corona-constricted times, a kitchen table, a drizzly park, a garage somewhere. And yet it lives.

Even if we take this to its conclusion, where not just space is limited, but even the right to free expression, we still see art being made. August Boal developed Invisible Theatre as part of his Theatre of the Oppressed under the military junta in Brazil in the 60’s with the aim of bringing public debate to a space that didn’t allow it. Rehearsing in secret, the actors would craft provocative scenarios that allowed for improvisation and open endings, and then took them into the public space to engage an unsuspecting audience. Undoubtedly dangerous, Boal and his collaborators believed enough in the power of change through art that the risk was worth it. They certainly weren’t being paid. 

Opportunity
Contrary to those naïve anti-vaccination conspiracies, we are not living under a military junta. We don’t have to fear for our lives or freedom if we want to create in public. Indeed, organisations like XR believe it is vital to our lives and freedom that we are. Don’t get me wrong, I like being paid as an artist, and I like working in comfortable rehearsal spaces. Who wouldn’t? But I dare say that even for those of us who got there, most of us didn’t start there. If I invite you to cast your mind back to that time, that person starting out, did they take more risks? Did they dare more with their art? If not, I applaud you. If so, you’re not alone. Space will always be difficult, but the streets are ours. With the right mindset, we’ve got all the space we need.