Arts Minister Simon Crean addresses the National Press Club of Australia, in Canberra.
Some time ago, when I briefly abandoned daily journalism to work for the Australian Ballet (not as a dancer), the company's then general manager, Ian McRae, told me: ''The Australian Ballet is what you see on stage: everything else, although important, is secondary.''
This perceptive advice provided me with a brilliantly effective image of a stage filled with whirling dancers, with the rest of us - managers, board members, mechanists, wig-makers, publicists, physiotherapists and the lady who irons the tutus - crowded, hugger-mugger, into the twilight of the wings. It sustained and encouraged me.
This image flashed into my mind this week while reading the federal government's new cultural policy, Creative Australia. It is a long document, about 150 pages, and has more than its share of jargon: the words ''excellence'', ''initiative'', ''leadership'' and ''passion'' occur more than once. But then, on page 69 in the section on the role of the artist, there came a shining moment of pure enlightenment: ''When a symphony orchestra performs, this is the result of years of training undertaken by every musician and the many working off-stage to make the performance possible.''
It would sound even better sung by a full chorus in C major.
What this says - what it admits - is that culture can never be predicated on equality; that by definition and purpose, a trombonist is different from, say, a music librarian, yet any player has to depend on such support to ensure full realisation. Another analogy is how the credits at the end of a film are rolling proof of active collaboration. Key grips and best boys might never be, or aspire to be, a cinematographer or an auteur, but should nevertheless be proud of their calling. It is refreshing, is it not, that the one-time profanity, ''elite'', can now be used without fear of lightning strikes?
This always reminds me of the old joke about the pungent circus worker, who sweeps up after the elephants, being asked why he didn't find another job. ''What? And leave show business!''
Creative Australia expands its own argument even further by declaring, ''Culture is not created by government, but enabled by it.'' This is, I guess, the crux of the matter: culture live on stage; support waiting in the wings. Cynics might view this as an excuse for government to avoid providing sufficient funding, and largely let the arts languish or fend for themselves. But this superficial, almost cynical view cheapens what is, to my mind, a policy of worth and substance.
Almost 19 years divide Paul Keating's landmark (i.e. the first ever) national cultural policy, Creative Nation, of October 1994 and Simon Crean's Creative Australia of March 2013. It is mildly interesting that the first was driven by the prime minister of the day and the second by the federal arts minister of the moment, but both men are indeed long-serving warriors on the cultural front and ideally suited to their respective tasks.
Crean also has an indisputable pedigree: his late father, Frank, as treasurer in the Whitlam government, signed the cheques not only to set up the Australia Council, but to pay for Jackson Pollock's Blue Poles. Certainly, Simon Crean has the cultural edge on the incumbent Prime Minister, who sometimes gives the impression that the Sydney Opera House is a place for ALP election launches.
The book-ending of Creative Nation and Creative Australia is more than the similarity of their names: the second could not have existed without the first. Back in 1994, I wrote in The Age, ''The most important thing is that there is a policy. It may be a little overdue … but it is here to stay.'' Certainly, some of the policy's elements, such as the establishment of the Australian National Academy of Music, have enriched many lives, creative and otherwise - and this in spite of former federal arts minister Peter Garrett's attempts to close it down.
What mattered almost as much as the policy itself was how it instantly raised culture to a higher political plane. The arts minister, once an adjunct position, was elevated to cabinet, and Keating, who maintained cultural issues were at the very heart of decision-making, ensured once and for all that the arts could be there for the greater public good and be recognised as such.
Creative Nation was a risky manoeuvre, but one that has paid dividends.
Forward to this week and Creative Australia. There will be disputes to be sure: policies, like theatre, are there to be criticised. But at least there is a policy, and one that accounts for the need for change and stumps up some decent money to help bring it about. For this, there should be gratitude, not nit-picking.
Michael Shmith is a senior writer at The Age.
No comments:
Post a Comment