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Tuesday 25 June 2013

Who's dissing my ability? Being broken, leadership and the attack on equality.

So today I was in pain, and after doing some yoga and taking some pain killers I decided to head out in Beijing with one of my walking sticks. 

One of the things I wanted to look at while I was here was attitudes to disability, so this was not only practical but also an opportunity to do some observing. 

The reason I'm interested in this is to do with the sense of the individual. In the UK, our Equality Act (2010) and previously the Disability Discrimination Act (1995) requires an employer or public service to adapt their premises and modes of working to the disabled individual - as far as is 'reasonable' (which is always wherein lies the rub). This structure is supposed to take the individual at the centre of the decision making, and place the changes in the world around them. (Whether it in fact works in practice is always up for discussion). 

China's cultural focus is on the communal, the responsibility lies with the individual to adapt themselves, to fit in, to change to suit the situation, to become one of the group. The focus on the group is so much stronger here in China, with colleagues sharing accommodation and even sleeping in the same room, your group that you work with are often your social and familial group. In the UK we tend to lead very separate and individual lives, dipping in and out of different ponds all day, from colleagues to various separate friends, groups and acquaintances. 

So with this in mind, how does China deal with the individual who cannot fit in, who is 'dis-abled' who's ability to take part is blocked by the way in which things are structured or built? This is by no means an exhaustive exploration of the subject, and I need to do some serious asking of questions, just as soon as I find someone who speaks English. This is the experience of a day with pain and a walking stick. 

The first thing that happens is that I get a lot of stares. Every single person I walk past on the way to the subway stares. This is compared to not staring normally, sans stick, so I don't think it's a white girl thing, and I check to make sure I haven't tucked my skirt in my knickers or got my coffee all down my top. Nope. It's the stick. 

Next up it's the subway, which is pretty much unnavigable without a lot of steps, a lot of steps. Entertainingly Dong Si station has a very elaborate ramp system to get into the station, and then you are immediately met with a massive flight of steps! 

Dong Si's helpful ramp



Dong Si's less helpful stairs.



These photos were taken back to back, spinning on a sixpence. Ho hum. Down I go . Ouch Ouch Ouch slowly Ouch. 

I guess that people with mobility issues take cabs a lot … 

On one of the trains one young chap offers me his seat, but on the other 3 everyone stares fixedly at their mobiles while I stand. I can't pre-empt the thought process here, perhaps it's "well if she chooses to get the subway she's probably fine standing" or maybe it's "I can't be bothered, I'm sure someone else will offer" or perhaps even "if she needs a seat she'll ask someone". To be honest I don't even know what the etiquette is on the London Tube, most people avoid eye contact and stay seated. Should I ask? Or just wobble and glare at them? It's a minefield. For example, a woman sitting in the 'disabled and elderly' seat on a London tube … she doesn't look disabled, but then, without my stick, neither do I … do I challenge her or just hope she feels the guilt? Or maybe she's pregnant, in pain, or partially sighted … how do I know? Minefield. 

Which brings me to a slight tangent, about how we categorise disability. During the para-olympics I witnessed some incredibly fit and strong, brave, tenacious individuals compete and win medals. The irony is that all the wheelchair users, these strong, fit, humans with incredibly rewarding lives are entitled to Disability Living Allowance, on the basis that they cannot walk 100m. I am not entitled to this benefit, because, most days, I can walk 100m.

However, I also spend days, weeks and sometimes months in bed, ill, with pain, nausea, and my earning and social potential ripped away from me, my life is reduced to abut 25% of what a 'normal' person would do, achieve, learn, and enjoy. Surely this view of dis-abled which focusses on 'can you walk' is outdated by now? It smacks to me of being designed by some well meaning but clueless 'walkie-talkie' (Ian Dury's term for the non disabled) ... "are they in a chair? Right then you're in".

Back to today .... I wasn't out long, the pain increased to a point where home and tea seemed like the best option. I'm very glad to be back here listening to some lovely music and full up of wonderful painkillers, basking in the aircon (I know it's evil - sorry) writing to you chaps instead of wobbling about in pain. 

But while I was out, I started to think about the term 'disabled' and what it actually means. Starting off with the term invalid, it's pretty rough to describe someone as in-valid and I can't believe it's only a few years since we decided that might not be on. So then on to the term 'disability' to say 'he/she has a disability' confers the inability onto the bearer, she has something different, strange, it's her problem. Disabled however is a sightly tricksier beast, it infers that something has dis-abled me, like being dis-armed, dis-proved, dis- organised, it takes someone or something to do the dissing. It's a more active more powerful term.

So what or who is dissing my ability? We could argue that it's the illness, my ME disables me, it takes away my ability to do, to take part. We could also take the view that it is the way things are which dis-able me. It's not that I can't do things per-se it's just that I can't do them on 'normal' terms. This is where the term 'differently abled' comes in. It's fairly new and been quite slow to catch on …

I had a long and tedious conversation with an organisation I once worked with about this, and without going into too much detail, they said I could not do my job, and I argued that I could do my job, but not according to the infrastructure of commuting, parking the car, walking to the office, lifting stuff, etc. It wasn't that I was unable, but there were structural (and easily changeable) things which made me unable. 

Since I've been working for myself,. I build my working day around my health. I have fairly easy to follow rules which enable me to be flexible and I work when I can (not always 9-5). Those I do work with are given clear information about my illness and things I need in terms of work style (i.e. I don't do last minute, because I don't have magic energy that I can pull out of nowhere to stay up late to finish something before a deadline. If you need something from me, give me a couple of weeks so that I can do it when my illness lets me). It all works remarkably well and remarkably easily - which to me at least proves, that it's not me that is unable, it's the structure which insists I must live my life in a certain way, it dis-ables me, it undermines my validity and seeks to make me in-valid because I cannot and do not play by those particular rules. 

And this is the crux of all equality for me. It's about systems. Systems which are usually designed by leaders, leaders who, up until recently, usually were white, male, wealthy, literate, straight (or pretending to be) and not disabled. So, we had structures designed to fit those people… because that's all they knew. (Think about pickled onion jars … the lids are so wide that I can't get my hand across to grip them, my guess is, designed by men, think of the leany-standy-uppy seats on the tube. I'm a fairly reasonable 5' 7" and they're too high for my arse, my guess is, designed by men. I could go on). 

Which is why, universal free higher education has begun to create a much more equal society, because in the 40 years since working class, non white, female, disabled and LGBT people started to get degrees (and be out, in the case of LGBT), they have become leaders, and they know what it's like to live in a world which doesn't fit, and they start to incorporate other people's difference into structures they design. Since we have had women in positions of leadership we have seen access to child care increase, maternity become more flexible etc. 

Which is why tuition fees are a disaster for equality. 

In 40 years, 50 years, 60 years from now, the people in positions of power will again be rich, mostly white, mostly non disabled - yes there will be women and probably LGBT people too (both of whom will face barriers and struggles to get these positions). But the economic grouping of decision makers will be less diverse than we have now. The introduction of tuition fees is not just about debt, about focussing students on subjects which deliver an income at the end of study, not just about reducing education to a marketplace, where you get to buy yourself a future. Tuition fees are a huge challenge to developing true equality leadership, and the design and implementation of appropriate systems. 

Sunday 23 June 2013

How do we rekindle a tradition?

Yesterday I went to the National Art Museum of China. The exhibition there was around one of my favourite subjects, the transformation of art in the 20th century. I found myself drawn, as always to the art of the 1930's and onwards, where communist block futurism prints begin and woodblock carvings of revolutionary fervour depict strong heroes. The work before this era is traditional Chinese ink painting, on vertical scrolls depicting nature scenes. These scenes have a language of their own, through the imagery and brush strokes. 

Once the 1930's begins, there is a noticeable shift to more 'western' forms of visual art, printing, oil painting, depictions of the human form, bold use of colour. Following this on, I started to see Chinese art following a theme of western art history, with some abstract works and texturised paintings.


As I was ambling around, in a semi daze, I was stopped by a young woman named Coco, who asked if she could ask me some questions (in very good English). She explained that she worked for the Central Academy of Cultural Administration and was interested to know what westerners thought of the exhibition.

She asked me if I understood the traditional ink painting, which I had to admit, I didn't really, I had just been looking at it as an amateur. She explained abut the Chinese relationship to nature in art, and how this tradition had been overwhelmed by a desire to paint in a western style over the period of the early 20th century. I was curious to know if this had been a choice, or a political decision. Did the artists have the freedom to make the work that they desired to make? Did they intentionally shift direction from their Chinese roots? Or was there a need to conform, to be seen to be supporting the state, the revolution and communism through their art?

Coco's reply was that this was a choice that artists made, as they felt that western visual representations were more sophisticated and powerful, (although I have to admit to thinking that it is unlikely that I would hear anything different in this context.). I think the best that I can say is that artists were influenced heavily, whether through their own eyes, the surrounding artistic community or the state.

As we continued to chat, Coco asked me if I thought it was important for the Chinese to support traditional painting. This threw me a little as I had had been thinking of it as a development, in the way that we no longer paint in the style of the 1900's. As far as I'm aware, we don't really have a 'traditional' visual arts culture and so it had not occurred to me. But as she said it, I realised that it is more than an artistic movement, it is the loss of a tradition, a loss of a language specific to this culture. It made me think of the way that Scotland has supported the traditional music scene over the past 30 years, with investment in the Mod, the Feis, and all kids of youth and community activities, with some very key players driving this development. Compare this to England's attitude to traditional music, which has been very investment poor and it is clear to see that infrastructure support is key to making things 'popular'.

Coco speaks about the loss of traditional painting as a 'disaster' for Chinese visual culture, and I can see that she is right. As I had been blithely enjoying the more westernised art that I had a visual language for, I had neglected how damaging that could be. I rewalked the first few galleries, and sure enough, there is a sharp downturn in ink painting from 1930 onwards. This is about the time that China began to open to change, to throw off it's traditional hierarchical structures. I can see why this form of art was moved away from, as it embodied a school of philosophy and politics that were being ripped away so thoroughly. But now, can we disassociate it from those meanings and rediscover the art form in a contemporary context?

We talked about this, about how infrastructure can support the reemergence of 'traditional' art forms and how bringing it to young people and allowing them to find a creative space between 'gatekeepers of tradition' and 'imaginative innovators' might create a wide rate of responses and a textured and interesting culture. I don't know how Coco will be able to use this discussion, I'd like to think that she can provide evidence to a cultural board somewhere who will support a programme of youth engagement, but how these things work in China is a mystery to me right now.

As we went our separate ways, we exchange numbers and I'm hoping to get in touch with her again, there is so much I can learn from this woman, about the way China changed artistically through the century in line with political shifts, and the way in which her infrastructure works now. I am interested to know what she will use her research for and what difference it might make.

I suppose the difference between a visual traditional culture and an oral/aural one is that those old paintings still exist. Pre-recording era, players had to keep playing the old tunes, in the style that they were taught in order to pass the tradition on. Now that we have recordings, younger players are freer to interpret the music in a contemporary or more personal way, knowing that those records of how they were once played will be preserved digitally. Perhaps this is a spring board for the development of Chinese painting, to take the old tradition and use it in a new and creative way, to say something about China as a country, to speak about China's current political and social landscape?

As I continue through the exhibition, I do find the occasional bit of fusion work. For example an ink brush painting but of figures rather than nature, ink brush nature paintings but on large canvasses instead of scrolls. It seems that there is a small niche of aisles who are looking at fusing traditional ink brush painting with contemporary visual arts practice, so perhaps all is not lost. 

Thursday 13 June 2013

The best that we can be?


A theme is presenting itself to me this week, which reflects both personal practice and arts policy, a theme which refracts through our attitudes, assumptions and choices as artists.

I’m thinking about time, about the best use of our time, and how we measure the best use of our time. On a personal level this comes from balancing projects against income against contribution. Several of my projects are not getting the level of concentration I would dearly love to give them, and this jitters at me, because I know I have a lot to learn, and I know, that these projects are a perfect opportunity to learn this stuff, if only I had time to spend exploring, engaging and giving everything I have to give them. So why don’t I have this time? Why have I been so poorly organised? Is it a case of taking on too much? Overestimating my capacities, promising the earth or a pure a simple economic conundrum?

It is, possibly, all of these. As an ‘emerging’ composer (I picture myself crawling out of a hedge, covered in cowslip with a wry smile and smudged eyeliner), I am learning what I can do, how many hours it takes to do each thing, how to factor in unexpected delays (projects which eat your time regardless of how many parameters you put on them). In addition to this is our ‘lottery’ of a funding system, you apply for 10 projects, thinking you’ll get 3, and you get 6 (if you’re lucky) or 9 (if you’re superhuman) or none. None of this makes for easy planning.

Add in a chronic health problem which is pretty unpredictable, can eat up months at a time, stop you being where you should be when you should be with the appropriate amount of preparation, and this is one tricky balancing act.

But.

Overall, this is an economic problem. Once I factor in 2 or 3 days in bed each week from illness, there is simply not enough income in what I do for me to have the time to learn from it. I am so busy churning out stuff to survive, that there is no time to take risks, think differently, make mistakes, start again, go for long walks, figure stuff out or just let it come to me when it’s ready. I am exaggerating of course…. I do all these things, but not as much as I would like, not as much as I need.

And I expect that I am not alone, not by a long chalk. Whether artists, academics, teachers, public sector workers, private sector workers, everyone I know is singing this same hymn, a hymn to busy.

We would all like more time to do our jobs properly, instead of just firefighting before charging on to the next deadline.

But why is our system set up like this? Why do we set up organisations, infrastructures and job descriptions to undermine the quest for brilliance? (Aside from our underlying cultural principles of work ethic, and an ever developing desire to point the finger of failure at those who don’t join in with this madness… of course?)

Well, my sense is, that the answer is capitalism. The need to profit, the need to do more, make more, sell more, eat more, buy more … all this undercuts our ability to think more, care more, create more, breath more, share more, grow more, learn more and love more.

So my question to me, as a self employed person, is ‘do I want to buy into this cultural madness?’ Actually the question is ‘can I buy into this cultural madness’. And luckily, in a strange way, I am not healthy enough to do this, the temptation has been ripped away from me by a particularly pervasive and unpleasant form of ill. In some senses, this has saved my life. It has enabled me to see this game which we all play, the chasing, the running. My answer to both the above questions is no.

So how do I create a working practice which allows the space to learn, to grow, to make mistakes, to take time over something? Especially in a cultural funding framework which could end up with no work, or too much work at any given time. I have no answers but it is something which needs careful consideration.

Looking at this reflexively, I am struck by two of our cultural leaders, who have embodied these questions on a macro scale recently. Maria Miller’s speech, demanding that The Arts and Culture justify themselves economically (note to Maria – we have been, for years, the data is all there) was a dog whistle, a set up, building a picture in the minds of the public that Cultural spending is something which can be cut, something which doesn’t pull its weight (note to Maria – it does by the way, we generate much more income than we are subsidised).

The arts reduced to a commodity or an economic output doesn’t make sense. It does not quest for brilliance, it does not enable us to learn, share grow, shine, make and show. It is the dead eyed chasing of profit in the form of an entertainment product.

Contrast this to Fiona Hyslop’s speech on Culture in Scotland, as something which defines us as a community, something which contributes on so much more than economics.  It’s heart, it’s community, it’s history, it’s stories, it’s learning, it’s language, it’s landscape, it’s our framework, how we see the world, where we come from, where we are going, it’s our values, it’s our identity.

One of the key thoughts I will be taking to China with me is ‘Why are we not allowing ourselves to build infrastructures and organisations which support our creativity, which make our artforms the best that they can possibly be?’.  Perhaps because we are constantly being told to learn from ‘business’ models – which are, ultimately, chasing a different dream from us. Perhaps it is time to set out our shop, identify what is really important to us and build a society and sector which enables us to be the best that we can be?