Art is seen, increasingly, as but another means of realising capital, or something that can be traded for capital. ‘Culture’ has been industrialised and the word itself become shorthand for one of many guises of the mighty ‘Leisure Industry’. It follows that new cultural projects have come to be regarded as ‘quick-win’ vehicles to realise ‘economic regeneration’, citing the successes of existing projects that have managed to effect a change in their local economy. But, in a curious instance of doublethink, the ‘local’ is celebrated – championed – precisely by effacing any real sense of the local, of locus, of place. And the extent to which the local is vital and effective is measured by how similar it is to other places elsewhere in the country, whether or not they are comparable in real terms.
The expectation that ‘culture’ should have a direct (and directly measurable, and near-immediate) effect on economic growth in this way has been coupled with a policy of reductive regionalisation to create a flatpack ‘culture toolkit’ which, supposedly, ensures that not even the furthest reaches of the country be spared an identical ‘cultural portfolio’. It means, essentially, that every region is competing with every other, and each is expected to have the same wearisome portfolio: a film festival; an art biennial; a “burgeoning creative industries cluster”. This facile strategy entirely ignores the particularities of place, demanding a near-exact portfolio whether it’s deep rural Devon or dispossessed ex-industrial West Yorkshire — and is as patronising as it is barely credible. Ironically, with the arsenal of regional development organisations, local authorities, Arts Council offices and Regional Screen Agencies all braying about their unique ‘cultural offer’, it effaces not only the regions themselves but the quangos’ own policies, since they are effectively orchestrating a creeping homogenisation which will see any real regional variation disappear.
Inevitably, this completely fails to miss the obvious, which is that place is important, and in a pretty material way: hill-dwellers and Fenlanders respond to their environments entirely differently, because their environments are entirely dissimilar.
In instances in which culture has helped to effect economic renewal, or at least reward – the Edinburgh festivals, perhaps – it’s happened over a long period, responding to the particularities of a place because that place lends itself to the activity in question. And it has happened reasonably organically in a favourable environment that, from the start, has placed the art first and left it, to some degree, to its own devices. But of course, that’s far too long-winded, and complicated, and costly, and therefore the Guardians of Culture, blinded by self-belief and the demands of policies which need to see links between economy and culture demonstrated (and returns to start rolling in), have hit upon a shaky formula for a quick-fix regional cultural development programme.
A fundamental problem is that we’ve forgotten about place, about the importance of place itself: ancient contours are erased in the face of the globalised economy. And the project itself, as a result, winds up looking rather embarrassed, like one of the mandatory public art pieces which appear as part of large projects by developers: timid salve to the conscience in the face of grand social engineering and place-effacing. They’re vaguely abstract but sloppily unimaginative; vaguely referential of the local area in a safe, neutered way; and always in harmony with the steel and glass bank-church or city-living condo whose entrance they guard.
And the ultimate goal? Once we all look the same, we’ll no longer be able to imagine any different. We’ll no longer be able to cite examples of projects which do things differently, and the shaky formula will be proven true. The number of film festivals and similar events which were either created directly by funders and cultural organisations to respond to ‘regional development’ priorities, or which receive funding because of their commitment to those, or economic and ‘cultural industry’ priorities is growing — and with that growth our ability to access work that is distinct, vital and imaginative is diminished.
About the Author: Adam Pugh is an independent curator and writer based in Norwich, UK. Until recently, he directed AURORA, an annual festival which focused on artists’ moving image. He is currently working on an exhibition for the Barbican, and on writing for Animate Projects, Artesian and others.
Adam has contributed articles to the German film magazine Schnitt, Vertigo and other publications, and to the annual AURORA publication, which he edited alongside its DVD edition. He has also delivered talks and curated programmes for various festivals and events worldwide, and served on the international jury at this year’s Kurzfilmtage Oberhausen.
