Translator: Rosa Baranda Reviewer: Mirjana Čutura
Hello, TEDx.
I am a musician in remission.
I was a singing Christmas tree in kindergarten.
I learned five instruments by the time I left school,
and I became a session drummer in the late '80s,
just as drum machines became a viable substitute for drummers.
I've tried giving up music.
I even got a haircut and a real job in the public service in the '90s.
(Laughter)
But I'm one of those people who can't not music.
I only have to walk down the street,
and my stride becomes a beat.
(Imitates footsteps sounds)
And then the way I move turns the beat into a groove.
(Imitates cymbal sounds)
Then a bird in a tree
(Imitates a bird singing)
becomes a melody.
(Whistles a melody)
And things I can see become lyrics for me.
(Singing) Down my street,
Sunny day
See the kids
Out to play.
(Cheers) (Applause)
I can't stop it.
Songs wake me up at night, literally:
a new idea that pops into my head
or an arrangement or a lyric
that's been chewing away in the back of it.
The good thing about that
is that sometimes those ideas put me back to sleep.
(Laughter)
But despite performing, producing and publishing music all my life,
I've never been able to kick my addiction to day jobs.
(Laughter)
The comforting thing about that is that I know I'm not alone
and that there are many other people far more talented than I
who share that same reality.
In my high school was a wonderful clarinetist.
She was so good that she played Woody Herman's 'Golden Wedding',
a very tricky jazz standard, at our end-of-year concert
and went off to study medicine.
I caught up with her
at our 30-year reunion a little while ago,
and I asked her, 'How did you get on playing clarinet?'
She said she hadn't touched it in 30 years.
She became a doctor and a mum
and abandoned her amazing musical talent.
If any of this sounds familiar, then you might be or you might know
one of the 9 out of 10 self-defined artists
who can't make a living from their art.
This is a tragic waste of passion, energy and talent,
and a missed opportunity for our economy and our culture.
Since 98% of us engage with the arts,
how much more inspiring would our lives be,
how much more vibrant would our culture be
if the number of artists who could afford to devote their lives
to creating and teaching and connecting with people doubled?
What if every suburb had a club where artists of all kinds,
painters, writers, dancers, actors, musicians,
could gather, create, teach and inspire their local community
with their works?
How much more productive would our economy be
if our 50,000 professional artists,
who have 10 times the rate of anxiety and 5 times the rate of depression
of the rest of the population,
could find self-worth and meaning,
not to mention financial security,
through sharing their creative problem-solving ideas
with people who solve other problems?
If we not only turned science, technology, engineering and math, STEM,
into STEAM by adding art,
but we encouraged and gave resources to our storytellers
to make the beautiful complexity of science and technology more meaningful
than budgets and parameters and buzzwords like 'innovation'.
It turns out that this tragic waste of passion, energy and talent
doesn't happen by accident.
It's the direct result of the way the arts are made public.
See, what happens is,
the publishers of creative works go looking for 'good' market-ready art.
And when they find someone or something that they think will make the money,
they throw money at selling it in the hope that someone will buy it.
They don't invest in developing it.
The result of this exploitative approach
is that the vast majority of published art loses money.
And the few mega hits that make lots of money have to compensate.
The vast majority of artists, even the published ones,
get very little for their efforts.
This exploitative approach
is what UK MP John Spellar calls 'mining the music industry'.
When you find a rich ore deposit,
throw money at selling it, and keep digging till it's all used up.
It's predatory, it's high-risk, focused only on the short-term,
it's wasteful, and it's exclusive.
Spellar argues that instead we should be 'farming' the music industry.
But the concept applies right across the arts.
Farming the arts means reinvesting part of each crop back into the next crop.
Here's how we could farm the arts in five steps.
Create fertile space.
In the arts, this means finding spaces away from the centre of major cities.
Large venues in the centre of cities
make for cost-effective display and performance of a lead art,
but the seeds of the next generation
are found in the suburbs and the regions where people live,
where they feel love and pain, fear and joy -
the things that inspire creativity.
Allow time and space for work that is indirectly productive.
In the arts, this means reserving space for artists
to practise without the expectation of excellence or profit.
Amateur artists are part of the ecology that fertilises the next crop.
Replant the next generation.
In the arts, this means prioritising the role of experienced artists
in mentoring emerging artists,
identifying and developing talent
and guiding it along pathways to excellence.
Reserve time and space for experienced artists
to return to their roots, to cultivate, prune and harvest the next crop.
Build systems that distribute the produce and maximise productivity.
In the arts, this means making pathways between the farms,
connecting artists not only in elite companies and elite schools,
but out in the fields,
where they can cross-fertilise, encourage and inspire each other.
Create a marketplace for all of the art.
In the arts, this means there must be people who appreciate all art.
Educated consumers can appreciate the development in a child's technique
as much as the wow factor of the Sistine Chapel
or the greatest showman.
But more than these,
successfully farming the arts needs a village.
Farmers need blacksmiths for tools.
They need vets to care for their animals.
They need butchers and bakers.
They need the farm animals and crops.
Artists need agents and managers,
easel and canvas makers,
lighting and sound designers.
They need clay makers and also technology makers.
They need people to encourage and inspire them,
to discuss and share their work.
Each of these people
need space and opportunities to develop their craft
to support the artists.
I hope by now you're wondering what a farm for the arts might look like.
A lot like a suburban sports club.
Suburban sports clubs are fertile spaces
set aside to develop the skills of the next generation.
Suburban sports clubs understand
that weekly training is just as important as game day.
Suburban sports clubs are powered by adult coaches
who give their time to develop the kids.
Suburban sports clubs are connected by competition,
and they are an essential part of the pathways to elite development.
Suburban sports clubs know
that kids and amateur athletes become the fans
that support the elite competitions.
Suburban athletes are supported
by administrators, coaches, sponsors, equipment manufacturers
whose contributions are felt beyond the confines of their local fields.
They are challenged and encouraged by competitors and teammates.
The best of them will follow well-established pathways to excellence,
and the rest will appreciate the elite performance
and support it at the gates and on TV.
This is what a farm for athletes works,
and we know it works brilliantly.
Since nearly half of us creatively participate in the arts,
how much richer would our culture be,
how much more productive would our economy be
if suburban arts farms encouraged and empowered local artists
to tell local stories as part of weaving our national tapestry?
What if everyone's daily effort
was affirmed by songs and images and stories
told by local and touring artists?
Changing from mining the arts to farming the arts
requires that we all become part of the village.
Just as a thriving village needs everybody to work hard in their role,
so arts farms and sports farms need a balanced community to support them.
Here's what you can do if you want to experience a world like that,
to create self-sustaining local arts farms.
Create fertile space.
Find vacant buildings in your local area and turn them into facilities for artists.
Tend to the next crop.
Allow that amateur sport and amateur art
are part of a process that leads to excellence.
Support local amateur artists of all kinds and all ages.
Connect with and trade with the farms.
Regularly visit neighbouring places and bring back ideas
for exchanges and exhibitions and collaborations.
If we all play our part in creating self-sustaining local arts farms,
we can make this world a more affirming, vibrant and inspiring place.
(Applause)