Uh… so we won, right? L.A.’s arts community stood up against the man, and the City Council tabled their proposed Cultural Affairs cuts …for now. We won for now, irrespective of what comes down the pike. So I should be happier than I am. The arts community helped save its Cultural Affairs department in a showdown at City Hall, and I’m not jumping through the roof? I can’t quite figure out why not!
What’s more, this collective coming together for the arts should’ve just blown the “does theatre even matter anymore” conversation right out of my dizzy head, but it hasn’t. The mere fact that over 5,000 of us contacted our officials and an impressive crowd of arts supporters showed up at City Hall means that it matters. Right? It means that all this hand-wringing about whether the arts are really making a difference, really serving a purpose, all that can stop. Right?
Wednesday’s City Council meeting was a rare show of 60-second monologues entitled What The Arts Mean To Me. Many powerful, spiritual, rational and forceful points of view. The casting was interesting. Costuming was good too, especially the angel costume. Yet… I didn’t love the writing.
I didn’t hear anything new. They seemed like the same old arguments we’ve been making for the arts for decades. Even my own arguments, while true, were not original; Arts orgs help keep kids out of jail, the arts create jobs and fuel the economy. True. But then the fire fighter’s union rep goes to the podium and reminds us that we’re already closing a few fire stations each day to save money and that is literally costing lives.
I remember hearing on the news how paramedic response times are longer now because of these budget cuts and that is being blamed for several deaths already. And then a city employee cried about losing her job as her colleagues rose to their feet silently in solidarity behind her. Gulp. This is real life and death stuff. And we’re fighting for our $5000 grants to do a show? Yikes.
Our very good arguments for the arts pale when compared to the need for paramedics. Of course we need both and I know these grants allow us to keep those kids out of jail and so I’m glad we won this battle. But it all seems bittersweet somehow. Those stoic, standing city employees were laid off the next day by the mayor, one day after they’d won their battle. LA has a catastrophic deficit and more city budget cuts are eminent. And here I am, still way back at the beginning of the universe asking myself if I should be doing art for art sake. It must matter if we saved it. Right? (beat) Right? Shut up, Jay, and be happy. At least for now.
Jay, I think one of the greatest myths is that “art for art’s sake” actually exists. I always turn to this Stoppard quote for inspiration:
“Briefly, art – Auden or Fugard or the entire cauldron – is important because it provides the moral matrix, the moral sensibility, from which we make our judgments about the world.” (from Tom Stoppard in Conversation, 1974 interview)
Art may not always make an immediate and tangible impact, but I like Stoppard’s idea that art works on a long-term scale, continually developing our moral relationship to the world. Why should art be any less important than science or medicine? Art’s impact can’t be neatly quantified and measured, but I think all of us at Bitter Lemons recognize the very real qualitative, aesthetic, and emotional power of the arts on our lives – individually and collectively.
Thanks for the Stoppard quote! That’s great.
I hear ya, Jay, and I feel ya. And as Sarah says (and Tommy Boy) it’s kind of the nature of the best that is our burden, isn’t it? The ephemeral nature of Art. Especially theatre. That moment in time that comes and then is gone. And yet, we keep coming back to it. The sadness when a show closes is palpable. At least it always is for me, because I know that thing that we brought to the stage each night will NEVER be replicated EVER again. Here and gone. But, man, it was good. And you know the tears and the laughter were real. And every now and then someone comes up to you on the street, or sends you a postcard, or meets you after the show and tells you how the play you wrote, or the performance you gave changed their lives. And then all the bullshit walks and you know you’re making a difference.