(For the full podcast, please visit http://thevarsity.ca/article/17475-call-and-response-the-canadian)
It’s hard to create a piece of so-called “art.” Most mediums come without a template, making it a great achievement to overcome a blank page or an empty canvas. I sat down with four students from the Faculty of Music, each of whom has a stake in being heard not only as a musician but as a champion of the arts, undiluted by money or politics.
In September 2008, Stephen Harper and his Conservative Party defended his pledge to “trim the fat” in an upcoming federal budget. One of the areas from which he proposed to cut funding was the arts, and in particular, federal grants for students and amateurs aimed at fostering continued growth in a profitable, yet arguably bloated, industry. Harper justified his announcement by calling artists “a bunch of people…at a rich gala all subsidized by taxpayers, claiming their subsidies aren’t high enough.” Many individuals on the so-called Canadian Main Street tended to agree with the prime minister, and with the collapse of the economy, many are unlikely to sympathize with the artistic community if they are seen as high-minded snobs. The Varsity asked four students to each write a short piece of music inspired by the art cuts.
When I sat down with these four young gentlemen who are in school simply to compose and play beautiful music, it became clear to me that while the Conservative government will continue to spar with various celebrity artists representing the other side of the spectrum — Margaret Atwood and Colm Feore, among others—the great output of work never ceases. “People are going to do what we do regardless [of funding]” says U of T music student Patrick Power. Power is writing a piece based on the political ideology behind Harper’s announcement but has less than kind words about the top-heavy royalty system. “At this point, we have to pay people to pay us to make music,” he says, referring to the huge financial investment it takes any young person to eventually see royalty money for their work. That’s why the cuts in the funding for grants are so important: they undermine the government’s so-called investment in its youth.
Saman Shahi and Patrick Murray have music dancing in their heads all the time. The need to create is like an urge: it sits at the base of the brain, nagging, waiting for the muscles to catch up. “It’s choosing a different life,” says Saman. “It’s not just [a matter of] deciding, I’m going to be a musician or I’m going to be a carpenter. Your whole being revolves around it.”
I used to love making huge, unstable structures out of plastic blocks. Without embarrassment I lovingly displayed my creations to whoever was around. Most children have a similar lack of self-consciousness when it comes to creating. The road to becoming an artist has become synonymous with poverty because it’s the most tentative and unsure profession we know. It relies on others enjoying the work enough to pay money to experience it, in the hopes that the artist will prosper and continue to produce.
By maintaining that all artists are elitist snobs, Harper is directly discouraging the millions of people who yearn to one day make a living by their art. It’s true that the inspired will always create, and whether anyone else acknowledges the work is irrelevant. But according to Patrick Murray, the government grants are important for one simple reason: “It is impossible not to be creative,” he says. “What government support offers is the time to perfect our art. Right now, we have a general culture that is not behind the artist, [and] it is harming the art.”
Rosano Coutinho had perhaps the hardest assignment of all. He had to compose a piece of music based on the election itself, and how having a stronger Conservative government with a disdain for Big City Arts will affect him as a student. “Politics has no place in the creative process,” says Coutinho. But will these cuts affect him? “Right now, no.” he says. “What drives me is my love to play and make music. Things in the exterior often mess with the art.” Perhaps these students sound idealistic. I remind Coutinho that he won’t be in school forever—that scholarships eventually run out. But he and the others choose not to think so far ahead. Right now, politics seem to be floating somewhere beyond them. This assignment was more like a piece of homework than an outlet for political dissonance.
But Saman believes that political turmoil often leads to the creation of great art. He refers to Shostakovich, a composer who, while oppressed within Stalinist Russia, wrote some of the most beautiful and intense music of all time. “Struggle and mental anguish lead to creativity. You can’t just put yourself in the woods and make great art. You’re eliminating [necessary] conflict.”
By the end of the meeting, we have reached no consensus. The only shared feeling between us is that art will always be made, and that sometimes the end result is better when there are people trying to prevent you from making it. I am sure of neither, but there is something about these musicians that reassures me that the best of Canadian art is not behind us.
