A few years ago, I was at the Singapore Writers Festival at a panel of writers. If I get into anymore specifics, I will easily reveal the identity of these writers, which is not the point of this post. It’s not to engage in a witch hunt, but rather, talk about what we don’t often acknowledge.
At the panel, someone asked these four writers how they were able to keep writing, or find time to write. A lot of them waffled and said that they made time, or some similar answer. Perhaps I am remembering the panel wrongly, but most of them said that.
But being able to write, to actually have time to write, requires something called privilege. These writers all have supportive spouses who work jobs in more profitable industries so that these writers can do what they do best — write. Some of these writers (who were not at the panel, but who are also successful,) have the support from their parents, who are comfortable and wealthy.
In a recent Channel News Asia interview with Glen Goei, even he concedes that one has to have wealthy parents (or rather, parents who are well off,) in order to thrive in the arts. Because the arts does not make money. As simple as that.
At festivals and conferences, this is the elephant in the room that no one wants to admit. People ask questions like how to get published, where to find inspiration, and what not. But no one talks about the inequality that is present. That people who come from a lower-income background are not exposed to the arts even if they are interested in them, because they didn’t start young — their schools fund the CCAs that have established track records, and if none of them are part of the arts, then too bad. Schools that give arts education to students already have an established history and already well-funded, and that is a mistake in and of itself — the arts should be for everyone.
Sure, everyone looks at life in Singapore through a utilitarian lens — one needs to make money in order to survive, and even then, it’s never enough — more money is needed to achieve a higher socio-economic status, because who in their right mind would choose the arts when they literally can’t afford to be poor?
Of course, I’d like to change this, and make sure that funding to the arts is given to schools, but I am not the government (nor do I want to be) and I don’t make sure who gets what. I do try, in some small way, to show my students that writing, at the very least, is freedom, even if they do not realise it. If one is able to express their thoughts eloquently, then one has an easier time in life — getting a job, asking airport staff to find their lost luggage, and persuading one’s significant other to marry them — all of these acts use words, and the sooner they master the language, the better. If they have a fertile imagination and excel at telling a story, there is no limit to what they can write.
But that detour aside, this will help de-mystify the arts. Often, people think that writers and artists are struck by inspiration and that if they sit and tap away at a manuscript or paint or draw or go for enough rehearsals, they will get acknowledgement and recognition. Not true. More often, it’s about one’s wealth, who you know and network with, and the kind of emotional support you have as well. Writers who have achieved something, awards, a book deal, accolades and what have you — have benefited from privilege (myself included). It’s up to us to be upfront and talk about these things, so that people can have a better understanding of how the industry works and not beat themselves up emotionally for not making time to write, especially if they don’t have the financial resources or are crippled with a mental illness. Some people can try their hardest, but it’s still not enough because these roadblocks — responsibilities, mental illnesses, poverty — they all get in the way.
If we want to support the arts, we have to find ways to plug in the gaps in inequality and find ways for people to get interested in the arts. We also need to give them the support and the skills they need to be a writer/dancer/actor/and so on, and it’s more than just money. It’s about showing them how they can support themselves to fund what they do. It’s about giving them time to create. If people actually supported each other, genuinely, and spread word about places that are willing to fund artists, or to help in any way they can, then perhaps, more people can choose the arts.
Featured image by Toshiyuki IMAI