On Graduate life - one year on

I’m unsure how long it has been since I last blogged; life just gets in the way doesn’t it. With this in mind, I thought it high time I part those heavy curtains of life-stuff and commit a few of my recent ponderings to paper.  It may also be the small fact that it’s been pretty much an entire year since  I finished my course at University, after four long years of dancing, thinking, making; and eighteen even longer years of full time education.

I feel a noted point of reflection is required.

However, after only recently finishing working at the University that I went to, being around campus is not so much a distant memory as a clinging reality that I’ve only just been able to shake off.  It will always mean a great deal to me, but I wanted to expand, go elsewhere and keep those positive memories of student life associated with the campus. Because, let’s face it, a campus environment, with all its throngs of excitable student campaigners, midday bar-cralls, busy student eateries, graduands; shiny and happy faced with the jubilant feeling that you only get directly after you thrust your dissertation into the cold, waiting hands of an administrator (along with your blood, sweat and tears), it’s just not the same for a staff member. Firstly, all students are just SO LOUD. They become annoying; they become the ‘other’ - “surely I wasn’t that immature when I was a student?” Truth is, yes I was, and yes, I still am. But the campus experience is entirely different when your friends, course, and free time have all been removed.

So, you can imagine the emotion stirred inside me when the final years had their dissertation handing in celebrations.  I’m sat at my desk pretending to be busy and suddenly I’m back there, feeling the tingling excitement start in the base of my stomach and the feeling of the year old knots in my shoulders loosen up as my head floats upwards for the first time in what feels like an age… or… maybe that was just the champagne.

Witnessing this turn of the year was like the world asking me ‘so what exactly have you done since this happened to you?’ Seeing the reality of this event; that it occurs year in year out, like clockwork, as the University processes students through their short-lived studentships, made me realise how quickly life goes by outside of the pre-determined structure of institutional education. I feel like I’ve done quite a lot, and I’ve come a long way since my dreary Summer blogs full of unemployed graduate woe. I’m where I wanted to be a year on; it just doesn’t feel like I thought it would.  I’m still learning to slow my life down. Being goal driven can have its virtues, but one must be careful of wishing one’s life away.

So yes, point of reflection noted, mind centred, positivity reinstated. Now… what’s next?...

Arts internships from an insider - my response to labour MP Luciana Berger on her call for arts interns to be paid at least minimum wage

So, I’ve just finished the second year of a physically demanding and mentally challenging dance degree, despite what some might assume, and am pretty darn thrilled to be offered the opportunity to complete a year’s internship at Siobhan Davies Studios; a contemporary dance student’s mecca within the London arts scene. I’m making a sandwich, happily contemplating this fact; when my housemate, a nuclear physics student, comes hurtling into the kitchen and announces he’s just been offered a year’s physics placement in America, with a wage, plus most of his expenses and living costs paid for too. Amidst the mandatory jumping and hugging that friends do to support each other, I’m left feeling somewhat deflated (as you would guess my internship was of the unpaid variety).

That was almost three years ago. Now, my friend is doing a PHD and I’m slowly but thoroughly rinsing all of the available contacts that I built up throughout that year. That precious year, that life-changing year, that without it I’d have left Uni not having a clue what to do and nowhere to beg for casual shifts. It is undeniable that an internship is pretty much essential within the world of arts employment. It’s the old catch 22 – no experience, no chance, but then no chance, no experience. You have the lucky few who can apply for a Jerwood creative bursary from the DCMS, but that’s just about as competitive as a single acorn in a cage of squirrels.

Even though I thoroughly enjoyed my placement, and it gave me the best possible chance to get my foot on the crazy-fun-house inspired sliding staircase, I would have felt so much more appreciated if I had been paid like a proper member of staff. And maybe I would have worked harder, maybe I would have taken my job role more seriously. I managed to support myself financially by taking extra shifts on reception, but this then resulted in me sometimes working a full 12 hour day, and mostly 6 or 7 day weeks. This and my (thanks but no thanks) massively reduced student loan. 

I guess maybe I’m one of the lucky ones, managing to get an internship as part of my degree. At least then I had access to a dribble of student loan. But perhaps it’s the actual degree programmes we should be questioning here. If they provided us with a little more knowledge and experience that’s actually relevant to the outside world then perhaps there would be no need for internships.

The sad reality is however, that these poor arts organisations have been cut down to their very stumps of financial stability. What were entry level jobs have now become unpaid internships. But what is the world coming to when companies have had to resort to free labour to keep themselves going? But - they do keep themselves going, because these internships are like gold dust.

It’s very well the government demanding arts organisations pay internships minimum wage, but then maybe the government should stop obliterating the necessary arts funding. It seems strange to me that the government hasn’t considered WHY arts organisations have had to cut their budgets so drastically. This is of course only my personal opinion, but in my experience unpaid internships are like UGG boots within the graduate arts employment scene; horribly popular but undeniably useful.

I Wish...

As most normal twenty-something arts graduates, my response to ‘I wish’ would be to write something along the well-trodden lines of recent government funding cuts to the much needed and highly overlooked arts sector. After graduating from a dance degree, you don’t just have to answer to those people with the cynical comments,  disparaging looks and turned up noses at your seemingly worthless arts degree, you also have to face up to the harshly naked fact that these people may in fact be right. It’s a slow and horrible dawning that has been hanging, putrid in the air over your head through your last few months at University, only to reveal itself now in its brutal and horribly real form. A realisation that the world of candy canes, gingerbread men and arts jobs that flourish from trees is simply the result of rose-tinted glasses. The problem is that most people know this, but are too passionate (some might say naive) to give up on their art completely and find a ‘proper’ job. But, all this has been said before. ‘I wish for a job’ isn’t going to cut it. I wish doesn’t mean I get. So, I’m going to flip the scripts. There’s a certain art in being able to see a little silver lining in that terrible head-cloud, and I think I may have mastered it. Constantly wishing after anything can have disastrous affect s; it can encompass your every being, take over your mind and soul, it is all expansive and incredibly exhausting. This is why I have stopped wishing. I’ve come to the realisation that all this struggle, debt, pure and unashamed poverty; questioning every life decision I have ever made and failing to establish the core to my very existence, is actually a good thing. If, the moment I graduated, the perfect job grew extremities and rushed to meet me with a warm embrace at my front door, I wouldn’t appreciate it half as much. Feeling like I’m struggling, head strong into gale force wind, wayward leaves and shrubbery getting stuck in my hair, bits of people’s letters (probably hefty bank statements and interview invites) flitter mockingly at my face, I can safely say when I get that job I will be pleased to have worked for it. I will never compromise my art. And having experienced stark career poverty, I’m all the more determined.

The London Rioters - In need of a creative outlet?

Unless you have been living under a rock for the last 7 days, (and let’s admit, who can blame you?) you would have been bombarded continuously by the countless news stories related to the London Riots.
24 hour TV coverage, specialist radio programmes, You-Tube videos, Facebook and Twitter posts; a media frenzy that has tornadoed through our lives, ripping across the seams of society and leaving behind a littering of moral panic.
Looting the general public of their ability to make informed decisions and tarnishing the young population with the same photo-shopping, cutting and pasting sensationalist brush. 
The digital age has brought with it access to a million points of view, all at once, and all trying to nudge us into thinking a particular way. The news has always been biased, but as a growing commercial enterprise, there’s no escape. The lines between reality and a regurgitated represented reality are being blurred, so much so that the media has an ever increasing and frighteningly high stake in public opinion.
Logging on to Facebook last Monday, about 98% of people’s statuses were riot-based, and interestingly enough there seemed to be divide between those that lived within the areas that were hit by the riots, and those that lived in, say, the Surrey or Oxfordshire countryside.
The majority of London dweller’s statuses attempted to attack the problems behind the rioting, whereas those who were not directly hit by the riots were attacking the yobs, criminals and looters. The interesting contrast here is the level of mediation that each resident has been subjected to, with questionable originality regarding the construction of these ‘opinions’.
Perhaps what we need, to combat this encroaching deluge of media influenced opinion, is to develop alternative ways of thinking.  Perhaps we can take influence from the artistic and creative thinkers of this world, who often indulge in critical analysis. If the public were to begin to recognise their own creative validity within the cultural sphere, perhaps public opinion would become more public-led, rather than led by those at the top of the media chain (Rupert Murdoch, anyone?).
So what if creative thinking could be applied as a solution to other aspects of the riots?
The arts have been one of the industries worst hit by the government cuts. Jobs in the arts are becoming increasingly rare, budgets for the arts and humanities departments in higher education institutions are being slashed, and arts companies are facing great holes in their staffing structure, which they struggle to fill through lack of funds.
The arts are seen as a luxury, a cultural-add on for countries that can afford it. But what the government did not consider is how the arts actually shape society. Art is not an extra, art is essential for a country’s social infrastructure, especially one in ‘financial meltdown’. Particularly for young people, art provides a way of expression that cannot be sought through any other means.
A favourite quote by John Martin states, ‘Life depends on science but the arts make it worth living’.
The riots came after 8 out of 13 youth clubs were shut down by Haringey Council. So how can the government think that the arts are an expendable resource?
Ok, so a lot of the rioters did just want new tellys and trainers. But what happens if we replace this obsession with material goods - this all-encompassing consumerist society, with a passion for something else?  
A passion for making music for example, or dance, or art. Creative thinking is not something that can just be switched on and off, it is a matter of displacement. Art is something that can bring people and communities together, it is something that encourages a new and different way of thinking, a way that is desperately needed, more so now than ever.

Get What You Need

Its been a while since I've had a revelation. Particularly through the deepest and darkest depths of my final year, anything other than coursework that involved more than an amoeba level of brain activity was left for a rainy day. I was enveloped by the bubble of campus as it swelled around me, warm and womb-like. News of the outside world tended to hit the outside skin and was deflected as if hitting a forcefield, not through disregard, but through a sheer inability to compute. Basic automatic tasks could be dealt with - cooking, shopping, laundry, whilst my dissertation swirled inside my head, seeming to mimic my clothes as they made a similar journey around the drum of the washing machine.
Having lived my life like this since October, finishing my degree left me feeling slightly empty. There was no jumping up and down, no crying, no whooping or hollering. The ceremonial opening of my results was met by what I can only describe as a slight noise at the back of my throat.
Then comes the avalanche of expectancy. By this I mean the sudden popularity of the phrase 'so... what are you going to do now??!' by everyone in your direct vacinity and further. The next person who asks me that question will get the death stare.
It is very common as a graduate to get that wobbly moment. Especially in the arts, there are no pre-prescribed jobs. No accountancy apprentiship schemes, no NHS shortages. But perhaps that's the exciting thing about it. No journey in an artistic career is linear or sometimes even logical.
I was in class the other day led by dance artist Matthias Sperling, who draws a lot of influence from performance artist and teacher Deborah Hay. During this session he kept repeating the phrase 'get what you need'. In terms of improvisation this can be translated as doing what your body wants to do rather than what your mind tells it. But it got me thinking about other aspects of life, and that maybe the most important thing is getting what you need.
Some people need stability, some people need to use logic, some people need to be around people. Its been a slow realisation for me that my need is in creativity. As artists, if we boil down our ultimate desires and aspirations to a single aspect, a whole world of new opportunities open up. In my opinion, a couple of key ingredients for happiness can help you find stimulation in the most unlikely of places.
If we concentrate on getting the very basics of what we need, we can learn so much along the way. So when the next person asks what I'm going to do now, I'll answer 'I'm getting what I need out of life, are you?'.

Are you dancin' yet? 'Cos I'm askin'

So last night I found myself in a club. This was a) sadly a very rare occurrence of late and b) completely unplanned; the result being that I found myself surrounded by all manner of ‘grizzly ghouls from every tomb’ (this was Halloween night might I add, I’m not that harsh about people’s appearance generally), whilst being dressed down in more ways than one.

The very same day I had attended a symposium on popular dance here at the University, within which there was a paper on club dance, in particular to Drum ‘n’ Bass music. The presenter carried out her research by attending Drum ‘n’ Bass events, and studying the club cultures that were present there. This fascinated me, as when you think about dance research, you normally imagine going to a stuffy theatre, surrounded by a sea of grey heads and watching a piece of well-honed ‘dance art’, whilst getting a numb bum and crick in your neck. 

So with this fresh in my mind, I entered the club scene; pulled out a few moves, threw a few shapes, and, as I glanced around the room I realised, with this new ‘dance researcher’ hat firmly in my mindset, how much I take pleasure in seeing other people completely enjoying the moment of the dance. A little like improvisation, club dancing involves the expelling of emotion, a joyous response to catchy rhythms, sharing an experience, and yes, a little alcohol. Even the creepy guy on his own at the back of the dance floor (there’s always one) dancing a little like an amputated squid and giving everyone the eye, is having (I think) the same delight at moving his body in response(ish) to the drums and the bass; the pulsing backbones of most club anthems, in drunken exultation that this is the only place where moving in that way is socially acceptable (again, ish).

I believe the power of this type of dancing must not be underestimated, or at all taken for granted. Through acknowledging the intricacies of a kind of emotive therapy that this can offer people, is perfect grounds for it to be studied, much like any other social dance form. So I ask you this; are you dancing? Because really, I think you should be.

On choreographic style

This time, I am considering choreography, and how important (or not so) it is to have a ‘choreographic voice’. After having attended a talk by world renowned Israeli choreographer Barak Marshall, which was based on his own style of making dance; through a complex politic of traditional Yiddish hand gestures, folk music and Israeli historical taboos, something started to correspond with my current studies.  Marshall spoke about his ideals of making work on himself and then transferring this onto his dancer’s bodies. This does admittedly seem very old hat, and I personally thought we had travelled away from the time when this way of making was fashionable, and have started to understand that all dancing bodies move differently and so an exact replica of movement is impossible. However, he did also make the very valid point that having the dancers create the main movement material, which the choreographers then just ‘mould’ could have a reducing affect towards the choreographer’s ‘unique voice’ and movement style coming through.

I have always felt that having a specific ‘choreographic voice’ was not necessarily a good thing. As dance students we are encouraged to expand our movement vocabulary and experiment with different ways of making and moving, as to not get stuck in that dreaded ‘choreography rut’. However, after starting to work on an autobiographical piece (as part of our course) the focus shifted towards the understanding of our own personal choreographic style. And, I suppose once you acknowledge the inevitability of actually having a style, you then acquire the ability to move away from it (or back to it) if and when you wish. A key promoter of this kind of thinking is American choreographer Tere O’Connor. He speaks about ‘getting rid of the authorities in your brain’, or taboos if you like, when you enter the choreographic space. This works to get rid of any rebellion that  you may be feeling against your own ‘style’ or how you believe your work is perceived by the ‘authorities’, therefore creating a sense of freedom.

I think style, whatever it is, and not just choreographically either, but in a wider sense of the word, needs to be something that comes naturally, otherwise it can’t possibly be yours. And it is something that is owned and acknowledged, but therefore flexible.

It was Quentin Crisp who once said ‘If at first you don’t succeed, failure may be your style.’

If you like it then you better put a label on it

The concept of labelling things; and I’m not talking apple stickers or luggage labels here before you ask, is basically society’s way of keeping everything neat and tidy, and in its own little box so that everyone feels a lot more comfortable living within the surrounding world. Even language, an essential part of human communication, is just a complex system of labelling. As dramaturg Ruth Little states, language evolved to describe the things that were not in immediate sight. So this semiotic link between what we see, and what this therefore means, has dispersed itself into the nooks and crannies of society; rendering the use of labelling essential, if not only to situate one thing in relation to another. I’ll give you an example; more often than not, the type of music that you like, will no doubt in some minute way influence the type of clothes you wear, and how you perceive your likeness to others, simply because by choosing ‘genre’ we immediately enter into a system of labelling.

One aspect of this that I find particularly interesting is the labelling of dance genres. I recently purchased a book that lists all of the perceived art styles, schools and movements conceivable. Ever heard of New Brutalism, Post-painterly Abstraction or Stuckism? No, me neither. The fascinating thing about this labelling (extreme labellism?! There you are, I’ve just invented a new one) is how completely different it is to dance, or, at least contemporary dance.

All Contemporary Dancers out there, ever been asked what ‘Contemporary Dance’ actually is and been at a total loss of what to say? And no, it’s not all about emotion and narrative, Arlene Phillips. My point is that the word ‘contemporary’ has been used to describe everything considered vaguely ‘modern’, since Martha Graham decided to contract and expand wearing a piece of swaddling (simplistic description to say the least, admittedly).

Ok, so there are a lot of different genres of dance, each with its own style. But to have ‘contemporary dance’ as a genre in itself, goes no way to explaining what it actually is. Whether this is a good or bad thing is up to debate. In a way it would be nice to be able to explain in layman’s terms what it is you actually do; having specific labels within the genre would help to conjure up that well needed and accurate mental image; therefore creating a more significant sense of validity. As John Berger describes; ‘It is seeing which establishes our place in the surrounding world’. However, contemporary dance was originally about breaking away from the conventions of dance; including the then prevalent system of labelling.

So, perhaps contemporary dancers, whatever shape or form, will just have to put up with being a bunch of ambiguous genre label-escapers (contemporary labellescapism?!). This, in reflection isn’t too bad at all, and is perhaps the very reason why dancers past and present turn to ‘contemporary dance’ as a source of refuge and freedom.

First Steps

So I've done it. I've become A BLOGGER. I've finally decided to take this writing malarky seriously. As I stand on the precipice of graduatehood, facing the cavernous depths of reality, I try very hard not to be consumed by the ill fated question 'what to do now?'.

The answer for now comes in blog form.

But, before I start properly I just wanted to post some of what I consider the best bits from my website (siangoldby.moonfruit.com). All in the name of cross-posting.