Why we shouldn't ask how much it costs, but how much it's worth.
When I was 17, there was a small office in our college where we could go and speak to someone for advice about careers. Most students don't really know what they would like to do at that age and so, they had a computer where you could answer questions from the National Careers Service, to give you an idea of the kind of job you would be good at, or enjoy (I seem to remember everyone got firefighter). Next, you would take your results and sit with the careers advice lady. She would then tell you what you needed to do next to pursue your chosen career.
I already knew what I wanted to do, so I went straight to the chirpy lady at the desk and said that I would like to act and direct and work in theatre. For the next 30 minutes, the conversation went something like this:
Chirpy Lady (with a suddenly solemn look): Ahh. You know that the performing arts is a very competitive business?
Me: Yes, that's why I want you to help me find the best way through it. Should I go to drama school, or....
Lady: There will be lots of periods of unemployment and you won't get paid very much.
Me: I know, so how can I best prepare to ensure that I do get regular work?
Lady: Only about 10% of actors are regularly employed.
Me: So what do I need to do to become one of the 10%?
Lady: You really should look at a secondary job, as a back-up. Why don't you do the careers advice test and see what you would like to do?

You get the idea and while I can understand the importance of having another skill or qualification, the complete apathy for my chosen industry speaks volumes. For such a difficult and specialist industry to get in to, there should be a very detailed plan of action, but the only advice she could give me was, do something else. Getting a job as an airline pilot is equally difficult, but those students were not told to get a back-up plan. I left the office with a sense of frustration and a leaflet about joining the fire service.
Fast forward several years and careers in the arts still don't seem to be taken seriously by many outside of the industry. Most professional artists have supplemented their income by working in other jobs at some point. This perpetuates the impression that their job is just a glamorous hobby rather than a skilled profession. The uproar over the Government's #Fatima adverts was less about the apparent abandoning of the industry during lockdown and more the disregard for the skills that those people have. A member of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra will spend 7 years studying to reach the required standard. This is the same as a medical student, so I can understand how being told to "retrain" might be quite offensive.

When the industry was forced to close down in March, it was the economic argument and pressure from industry leaders, workers and some sections of the general public that eventually convinced the Government to do something. And whilst the well publicised £350 million support package was welcomed by venues all over the country, it still only equates to around 12.5% of the total amount the industry returns to the treasury in taxes every year. Again, a lot of public opinion saw it as a handout, rather than an investment.
Arts and culture is not viewed as an industry at all, with public focus on the "show", rather than the "business". The costs of running buildings, making a product and paying staff are the same as any other business. Including all the boring stuff like rent, heating, water, insurance and business rates (how much does it cost to flush 1000 toilets every night?).
Making and participating in the arts brings a richness to people's lives that cannot be quantified or measured in the same way as other industries. But that doesn't mean that the actors, freelance creatives and crew aren't entitled to the same employee rights as everyone else. Producing a product, ie the show, means paying everyone fairly for the job they do. Then trying to balance the cost of making the show against making it affordable for as many people as possible. What audiences see on stage is the finished product, there are weeks, months and sometimes years of work put in to creating them and it all has to be paid for.

I often hear, "people in the arts are doing a job they love, they should get paid less". So are Premier League footballers, but each of them makes more in a month than the average person would earn in a lifetime. How many would still play football if they were paid £400 a week, and only got paid when they played a match?
In the 2016 -17 season, the Premier League figures show a contribution of £7.6 billion to the UK economy. In the same period, arts and culture contributed £10.8 billion with an additional £23 billion generated through employment and supply chains. Contributing more to the country's GDP than agriculture. Productivity in the arts has been calculated at £62,000 per person, compared to £46,300 across all other industries.*
When the country went into lockdown, it was the arts industry that everyone turned to and that expensive product was given out for nothing. Digital downloads, podcasts, workshops and interviews. The majority were given freely, or asking for a small donation, not a charge.
It is true that the vast majority of people in the creative industries have a passion to imagine, to create and to tell stories. But as human beings, we all have an in-built need to watch, listen to and experience them. So, while many in the arts can and have, already moved into other jobs, we need to hope that their dedication will bring them back. As a society, we can't afford for them not to. We need them spiritually and psychologically.
We have to acknowledge people who commit their lives to learning and continually improving their craft as professionals. Even when they are not able to do the job they love. It is their passion that sustains the industry and will, ultimately, rebuild it.
*Source Arts Council England
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