Culture Squawk

That’s Entertainment!

It’s just so deliciously daft, you would be forgiven for thinking some card had made it up. No, silly, not the welfare reform bill. The #GLASGOWARTLICENCE

I promised my tired right brain no more blog posts but this one comes by popular demand. Ask and it shall be granted, friends. Your bill for this temporary, non commercial blog is in the post, by the way.

Ach, who am I kidding. The real reason I haven’t blogged since 2011 is because, as you know, I am inherently lazy, useless, pointless and lazy, like all lazy, pointless culture workers. Give me a simple task like filling in a 4-page Creative Scotland application form with only 250 words per question (EASY PEASY, IDIOT!!! Foundation level Standard Grade in Home Ec. asks for more, you whinging moron!) and an elementary set of guidelines which only change every five months, out of the blue, like a dog’s period, and I fall to pieces.

We are stupid, you see, us bams who do up our top buttons (it’s cold, right?), pontificate over vaseline-smeared plaster dust and can’t get proper jobs because we’re just too damn inept.

It’s about time someone came along and made our lives that wee bit more challenging. We need educating. We need to know about the REAL world. We need grown-ups to tell us when to stop playing about with potato stamps and get on with our homework. We need AN EXAM.

Seriously, that’s what I thought about when I read wur Cooncil’s Briefing Note on Public Entertainment…section 41 blahblahlegalthingswelazypointlesspeopledon’tunderstand 176(2)(a) amendment. I got that same clammy-handed feeling I had when sitting a class test in Higher Maths. It was the moment when I realised studying Higher Maths made me 1. a failure and 2. an unsexy failure and that I’d rather be doing something I was 1. good at 2. not being made to do and 3.sexy. Of course, I left Higher Maths to be useless at Art. But at least I enjoyed it and my hands were mostly dry (sloshing turps across the 6th year final textiles submissions is something I’d rather not go into here).

The Briefing reads like a trick question, no? (I mean yes? What do I mean? HELP ME!) Particularly this part:  ‘The Council’s Licensing Team can provide general guidance on the Public Entertainment Licensing process but they cannot provide legal advice. Legal advice includes advice concerning the correct interpretation of legislation.’ Oh. Okay. [Fingers slide across keypad.]

BUT what they can do, actually, is interpret the legislation to exempt school halls, church halls, gala days and fetes, and small scale outdoor events ‘of a community nature’. Which is why The Cooncil remain coonts even though it’s the SNP’s obsession with tanning salons that got us here in the first place.

If you don’t believe me about that last bit, take a look at this. 

So, basically, here’s what’s happening to the arts in Glasgow:

Me: Sandra White - you’re no right.

SW: Listen. What you don’t understand is that small-scale, not-for-profit art exhibitions are becoming a tempting target for organised criminals to launder money, especially since they are slowly being squeezed out of other areas such as tanning salons. We’re only talking about a very small minority of arty-farty monkey-spankers in Glasgow that aren’t legitimate, but this small amount need to be tackled.

Me: Er, I just don’t see how an art exhibition in my flat would allow me to launder money?

SW: All crooks like you need to do is leave an unpaid intern or other associate to look after the day-to-day running of the so-called ‘exhibition’, get a few unsuspecting unemployed people or art students through the door, and then you can cook the books and pretend your crooked cash has been earned from Creative Scotland. Let’s be honest – if your primary interests are simply impressing that stripy-shirted, legacy-building no-hoper Andrew Dixon you’re not exactly going to be that concerned about the health and safety of your audience.

Me: Fair enough.

Well, SNP Sandra, guess what? You’ve got a whole load of angry hipsters gnashing at your bum now, and having a lopsided fringe and a big black necklace won’t convince anyone that you’re for the Year of Creative Scotland (gags on own bile - have you SEEN the marketing material?).

Glasgow Petition against the new legislation: 

http://www.change.org/petitions/the-scottish-government-scrap-public-entertainment-licence-fees

You don’t have a pension, do you?

Well, we always knew Jeremy Clarkson is a tosser. You only have to look at the company he keeps when he’s not oiling up some old Bughatti. In one of the more informative news-bytes on the incident, The Guardian reported that David Cameron dressed as ‘the Stig’ for Clarksy’s 50th last year, presumably while driving a Lamborghini  disguised as Andy Coulson. I’m sure it was a classy affair. Clarkson: the sort of man who calls a new line of Mercedes ‘the German invasion’ and who thinks he’s being funny when he writes this.

Anyway, that momentarily distracted me from what else irked me in the piece. That’s right, this bit:

‘By the afternoon, as the number of complaints mounted, [David Cameron’s] official spokesman tried a joke of his own: “Execution isn’t government policy and we have no plans to make it government policy.” ‘

Good to know that while a record number of complaints are being recorded by the BBC against Clarkson’s comment, the UK government thinks it appropriate to respond in the manner of a sixth-form debating society. 

Entertaining as all this is, it’s taking me off topic. Because I’ve come back to write about something that really bothers me: my salary.

I don’t know much about my small (but perfectly formed, yadayada) readership but, if you found me through Twitter, you’re probably on the fresh side of forty, a culture worker living in Spudland and you have the seniority of middle management. 

How many of you took part in the strikes on Wednesday? How many of you are members of a union? How many of you have a pension? 

You don’t have a pension, do you?

If you’re single and in your twenties working in the culture sector in Glasgow, you probably don’t have a mortgage either because banks won’t lend to you. You probably have student debts and you may have other debts from working unpaid internships or being unemployed. You might spend more money than you can afford each month because you don’t see the point in saving. You are optimistic because you still believe there is a career ladder, like there is a property ladder (or would be if you could get on it), and there are benefits to your job - like free wine and tickets to shows. Yaaaaaay!

If you have a partner who earns the same or more than you do you might feel relatively secure. You’re maybe in your thirties. You’re enjoying the benefits of a shared income - holidays abroad, dinners at Gandolfi Fish, drinks in Chinaskis and free beer at the art openings which, like Optimo, you now only attend to show face. You have some standing! You are of minor importance! This feels good (a slightly hollow good). Your friends from university/siblings/cousins are now earning £25-35k and you’re… well, a wee bit less well off. Should you be thinking about a pension? What, your company hasn’t had a compulsory scheme since 1995? Never mind - you could always opt in to the voluntary scheme. Oh, but that means you won’t be able to pay off your student debt? Decisions, decisions. But it doesn’t matter because of the free shows!!

Congratulations, you’ve decided to start a family! No, you’re right, there’s never a ‘good time’ to deal a sprog. After all, you’ve met the wo/man of your dreams and they are an artist, so of course it will all be fine!! Your creativity will see you through. What’s that, you say? You are the main earner but your salary hasn’t gone up past the rate of inflation in the past five years despite increased responsibilities and the fact you’ve singlehandedly made your organisation the best at XYZ in the country/Europe/Universe? And there’s no scope for promotion because the next step up is to run the organisation and your boss would rather DIENAILEDTOTHATBLOODYEXECUTIVECHAIR than move on? But with your qualifications you’ll be able to find a new, better paid job in no time! What’s that? You need to work part-time to help look after your child but there’s no part-time work available at the appropriate level in the whole of Spudland? At least there’s the free shows you won’t be able to attend because you’re looking after an infant.

If you are any of these people, this bothers me. Isn’t it time we all got a better deal? Shouldn’t Creative Scotland be ashamed that in organisations it provides funding for there exists:

• Workers who are not being paid a living wage (£7.20/hr, which is around £15k for a 40hr week)
• Stagnancy in career development and salary expectations
• A poor deal for families - not enough money, not enough support and uncertainty about the future

But we can all be thankful that we’re not in the rat run, doing mindless jobs we hate just to pay the bills. We are the lucky ones. Right?

Arts and Bigness 2

So, I wrote a blog post. It took a while. A bit of research. Carefully chosen links and acknowledgements. I saved it many times (BUT NOT ONTO MY DAMN HARD DRIVE - IDIOT!!!!). It was called Arts and Bigness.

What follows is an attempt to recreate what was surely the best work I have ever done in my lifetime.

Enjoy.

(Exits, sobbing hard)

What is it with Spudland and gongs? It’s worse than a Vanity Fair bio.

Tomorrow it’s the Arts and Business Scotland Awards. They will be held in Aberdeen which is really fucking convenient for the hundreds of culture workers located north east of desolation highway.

Wur man in the striped shirt has said the Awards recognise ‘a welcome commitment to culture from the private sector’. He’s trying hard not to state the bleeding obvious which is that very many good projects and organisations would not exist without private investment. Anyone remember those weird get-togethers where the mantra ‘WE ARE NOT A FUNDER’ was rammed down our throats?

Anyway. It’s altogether groovy that businesses want to make children smile, see offenders put their, eh, social-facing energies to better use and help grannies get stall seats to the panto. But like 15 year old virgins we all need to consider: do we actually want to be doing the deal with them?

Let’s take a look at just a few members of the Private Sector. In this instance, some of those who are sponsoring tomorrow night’s Spud Medallions.

1. Aberdeen Asset Management - your typical €200 billion investment manager. Their Chief exec needed a pay rise to keep his socks clean this year. Clearly his £400,000 salary wasn’t getting him into the right clubs. So he upped it to £500,000 against many of his Shareholders’ wishes. It’s good to be part of the 1%, isn’t it, Marty?

2. Chevron Upstream Europe - Like most Big Oil, Chevron were in with the Bush administration happy-style. They haven’t washed the crud/e from their paw-paws yet. They are currently trying to avoid cleaning up the toxic waste they left in the Amazon by claiming that a law suit filed by indigenous Ecuadoreans is fraudulent and unenforceable.

3. McGrigors LLP - Prestigious law firm. You know how the Tories have got their knickers in a twist about Spudland’s glorious leader traveling to the middle east? While he’s there, Alec’s going to be opening McGrigors Qatar.

4. Shell UK limited - So, they made a bit of a mess in the north sea this summer. Big wows. Now they’re off to carry out highly controversial drilling experiments in Alaska, threatening endangered species. Now, Shell, isn’t it a bit risky to be messing about on home soil? Stick to what you know, I say. In your case that would be destroying people’s lives in Nigeria.

Read more about the Arts and Business Scotland Awards here.

*Coming soon - Ambience Reviews!*

Arts and Bigness

What if squaries were roundies?

This week I was invited by @edfestideas to contribute to their excellent Edinburgh Festivals Ideas Challenge. The Challenge is irresistible on two levels. Firstly, it asks that you engage with the concept ‘make the [Edinburgh] festivals even more amazing’ which, if you live in Glasgow, is a bit like letting the Edinburgh Castle ‘waterfall’ burn all over your face before sucking up your sticky remains with a straw. Still, you can’t help but want to take the piss. Particularly as (secondly) it invites you to complete the phrase “What if…”

For example:

What if… there was some sort of clean air transportation system, run on electricity, which would take people all the way from the Airport to Newhaven via St Andrew Square?

What if…there was a way of holding all the posho public school London cunts in quarantine for a few days just to acclimatise them to, you know, basic decency and all that?

What if… we all just stayed in Glasgow?

The 264 suggestions so far make a reasonably entertaining read. If you cannae be bothered trawling through for the juicy bits, don’t worry. The Squawk has pulled out some of the best and recategorised them for your information below. All posts appear here unedited and credited.

1. Bitchy

What if all the URLs on the Fringe website didn’t disappear next year? People have linked to previous productions, their pages should remain. Matthew S

What if The Book Festival servers were upgraded to cope with web bookings from day one? Maybe liase with Fringe to see how it can be done. Susan K

What if 2012 festival lanyards looked like Olympic medals, awarded for festival greatness? David J

Matt and Suse are boringly touchy - clearly they have wee pickaxes to grind and their voices aren’t being heard. But we can’t be sure about Davey J. I don’t know if he’s a harrowed box office lacky or if he just likes sport. David J - have you been met, as I have, with the wrath of a certain well-known culture hawk denied entry to a sell-out show because he was thirty minutes late - and it was SOLD OUT? (clue: It may have been okay In Your Time, Mr B, but it certainly wasn’t in Ours.)

2. Tedious (aka Joe Public)

What if We made the festivals more inclusive to locals? Run a comp for schools to get a show put on & give tickets to folk who live in the margins. Martin M

What if there were a year-round outreach education/involvement programme to community adult groups in Edinburgh? Siobhan C

Siobhan and Marty are either true punters or arts education managers in disguise. Unaware that people already do this sort of thing across the city year round or desperate to draw your (and the Culture Bosses’) attentions to the blood-sweat-and-tears work they do?

What if you had an app that located the nearest toilet? Ross C

Oh dear, Ross. You get the prize for person we’d most like to avoid in Festivaltime. The city is literally PACKED full of pop-up toilets and you’re still getting caught with pot-pot in your britches.

What if IRN-BRU sponsored late trains between Glasgow and Edinburgh at Festival time, and the trains became shows in themselves, with entertainment Martin R

Explain this random product placement! Do you work for The Cooncil?

What if People could volunteer to help out in return for free tickets eg as general Festival Guides (with bibs), flyer cleanup etc- like RockCorps? Michael R

Michael, it would appear, is blissfully unaware that this practice is as RAMPANT during the fringe as a free Ann Summers goody box at a Freshers Fair. It’s called exploitation labour or, sometimes, ‘internships’. But I agree, it looks so much nicer when sponsored by Orange.

3. Planning Nightmare

What if why not all the performers plant a tree from now on, with its name signed, on some nearby bold hill. It would be ecologically friendly  Solza G

Yeah, great idea, Solz. Let’s dig up the Pentlands and plant 22,000 saplings because that will justify tearing down the rainforests for print marketing. Good one.

What if Charlotte Square was closed to traffic for the duration of the Book Festival so that even more marquees could be added on the Square?  Derek S

You don’t live in Edinburgh, do you?

4. Bonkers

What if the book festivals are organized in a funny way,like circus & people will enjoy this type of work Sitender P

What if Temporary moving sidewalks in long stretches of straight midway for the tired, people with children and the disabled? K.F

I think we’re all a little tired, K.

5. The Squawk Recommends

What if there was a workshop at main venues where art students made & sold rain hats made from old fliers & posters? Wrath O.

Precisely.

What if quality not quantity Pamela C

Pam, if only I’d taken your advice when I started writing this post. Still, it’s been a while, and maybe someone out there’s missed me.

**Coming Soon! Restaurant Reviews**

Molotov!

I’m currently basking in a warmer climate, although it’s only temporary. Still, I’m away and being away I have gained some perspective. For example, I have gained perspective on the fact that one stunning individual felt it necessary to email me to ensure I would have a great time. They wrote this:

I hope you enjoy your annual leave. Please send me your updated TOIL sheet when you return. Thank you.

No kisses.

My new perspective says BURN IN A SOCK FULL OF SNAKES, YOU MISERLY, WORLD-HATING GIT.

I haven’t always been an employee. Once I had some self-worth. Unfortunately that self-worth came in a three-pack along with sweaty palms and nightly palpitations. Then I got a mortgage and a host of other trappings of middle-class respectability culture workers pretend don’t exist -and got a good kick up the arse. So I got ‘annual leave’ instead.

I remember this when I hear stories about what’s happening with Spudland’s major cultural bureaucracy right now. Because, in the end, it’s just run by people like me, right? People who thought they were creative then got the FEAR (not good enough/I have a family now/I’m never going to pay off this student loan I took out to buy pure gold so I could sculpt a MASTERWORK for my degree show, a gold-plated reproduction of my own EYEBALL, they’ll herald me the next Damian Hirst, by god so they will).

Or did they?

How do we know they’re not automatons built for pushing paper, holding the Olympic Torch and making our days seem slightly more pathetic? Well, they make mistakes. And by gum have there been some Oliver Postgates of late.

To start with there’s the issue with getting a straight answer out of anyone (because no one really knows what they’re doing and what they should be saying?), finding your ‘friends’ in one department are no longer your ‘friends’ but work in another department altogether, and the hideous musak when you’re put on hold. Plus there’s the fact that they are cultivating a ridiculous jargon (cultural ecology, anyone) which makes everyone sound like they’re describing a particularly persistent yeast infection instead of actually being interested in art.

Rumours (not generated by the Squawk, I hasten to add) abound of internal fall outs, staff not speaking to one another, divided interests, Portfolio Managers (what are we dealing with here, hedge funds?) with very vested interests transferred from their previous roles, complaints over funding application procedures, monies promised but not delivered and rules which keep changing.

Having waited for two years to find out whether or not they’ve got a job, some staff are now looking for the exit sign - but what are they going to do? Follow their DREAMS? Pursue their CREATIVE AMBITIONS?? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HA! Just take some annual leave and get on with it like the rest of us morons.

This crazy kid * has designed a contraption that will generate a cocktail based on letters he types into a machine. He claims he can LITERALLY taste his own words! I know what you’re thinking at this point: we don’t need one of these to know what B-U-L-L-S-H-I-T-E tastes like. Yeah, that’s right - the same as C-R-E-A-T-I-V-E-S-C….

*No, I didn’t like his soundtrack

Best Round Table Award

I hardly have the energy to report on the Scottish Event Awards which took place in Edinburgh last night.

Being, you know, Events Awards, they do pride themselves in putting on a good show -  which is probably why guests were treated to this display of naughty-naughty-nicey-nicey and a Heinz load of can-can dancers.

Heart-stoppingly predictable seeing as burlesque is now the most overly deployed EVENT signifier in Spudland. Launching a festival programme? Not without nipple-tassles, you don’t! Handing out a dong? Don’t forget the frilly knickers! Hosting an ‘Exclusive Party’ to up your venue’s attendance numbers before the end of the financial year? Bring on the laydeez!*

The AWARD-WINNING!!!!!! Corn Exchange also provided a stage for this. Which, without the Hoff, is only a little to the right on the deeply embarrassing to quite funny scale. It all went a bit get your Coatbridge.

Anyway, you just start wondering why anyone bothers. Then you remember that you’ve been told to go by your boss, as if it’s some big (unpaid) treat. But you’re only going because they can’t fucking stand it - and there might be people there with THE MONEY.

*  I was once subjected to the dispiriting experience of watching Scottish Opera attempt to demonstrate that Verdi is hip. They engaged in what was described to me as ‘a unique collaboration’ with Glasgow burlesque club night Club Noir. I went along (a friend of a friend worked on the night and had some freebies. I don’t need to defend myself to you). The event was attended by an unappetising mix of hen night parties from Dundee, men in full body latex suits, about five hundred blokes dressed like they’ve come back from an audition for an amateur production of Chicago plus a group of people who looked like my mum and dad on Burns night. The latter were the opera enthusiasts. Apparently Scottish Opera delighted at the ‘diversity’ of the audience on the night.

Let Suits Flourish

I tweeted earlier about a meeting I’d had with people who work for Glasgow City Council (not Glasgow Life, we’ll come to them another time). Essential patrons of the arts in the city, they have little interest in using the word ‘art’ other than to say ‘that’s a bit arty’. What they mean is ‘I don’t understand or value this but I’ll stick around so long as the free bar/ photo ops with someone important lasts’.

Here are 5 things to note about meetings with The Cooncil:

1. They wear suits and lanyards. I suspect even on the weekends.

2. They (still, most of them) have pensions, unlike most of the disenchanted culture workers they encounter, and so hang on to their jobs like rabid dogs at a rat’s arse. By contrast, working in ‘the cultural sphere’ is a bit like being hit over the head with a fat, spongy sign that reads ‘You’re Talented! You’re experienced! You’ve worked hard for this! You’re WORTHLESS!’. Consequently, many culture workers move on after 2 or 3 years (or less). The Cooncil find culture workers flighty and, probably, disloyal.

3. The men are invariably pallid and the women orange (unless the men are Orange, if you get my meaning). Yet they inhabit the same offices and attend the same school pantos/X-Factor-style talent shows/Eco-Fayres.

4. They all, and will always, love football. Because you do not work in football or support a Team, you are bizarre, an anomaly, worthless. But you already knew that because of the job you’re in.

5. I’ve noticed that the men fall easily into two categories. Over-confident hyperactives or slumpy, glassy-eyed starers.

Quite a few people I know depend on The Cooncil’s patronage for a living. They ease the pain by swapping tales of their benefactor’s implicit racism (usually mixed in with a P.C. soundbite - they’ve had cultural awareness training, you know), class prejudice and general disdain for the artistic projects they’re supporting.

I’ll gladly post such tales up here. Just drop me a line, folks!

You say goodbye and I say hello

The hurricane has passed. Gavin ‘Confirmed Bachelor’ Miller is oot, gone, bye-byes and Chris ‘Our Glorious Saviour’ Fujiwara is HELLLLLO, DOLLY in. Heartening news for blustery days in Spudland.

Staff, one may presume, are overjoyed. Here’s a genuine, 21st century, bloggospheric cinephile come to rescue a much beleaguered institution from complete implosion - and he’s got a cool name that literally speaks celluloid. Contrast this to Miller whose marketing flim-flam and TV crockery background gained him nae pals so he had to recruit one to actually do some work while he slowly sharpened a stake behind him.

What have we learned, children?

Miller exuded ‘culture industry’, a term that makes me shudder more than sitting on a block of ice with snakes down my pants while being forced to watch someone run a rusty nail across a blackboard. He worked, vaguely, in the cultural domain (television/tableware/has anyone actually read his CV?) and had experience in branding entertainment for consumption by a mass, even if segmented, audience. Ooh, goody - let’s recruit HIM to lead a 60+ year old respected international film festival and one of Spudland’s greatest cultural cinema exhibitors. HE’LL know how to sell us. DOWN THE WATER. Here’s what Miller produced in his time at FH/EIFF. Doesn’t get much more so-hot-I’m-panting brand-savvy than that, people!

I’m stupidly excited that Fujiwara’s a wayward intellectual. We need more of these in Spudland. Especially with names like Fujiwara. People who have lived in Japan and the States and can reconcile their mishmash experiences in a love of film.

Our Prince will have to deal with an ineffectual board and a cultural ‘investment agency’ which has next to no interest in supporting the growth of independent cinema exhibition. The very least we can do is shake his hand.