Creative Scotland nibbles at the bullet
Alison Prince
The rumpus about Creative Scotland has perplexed many people. Just what is going on? As a professional writer, I have something of an overview. I was a member of the Scottish Arts Council’s Literature Committee for some time, and knew the nitty-gritty of grant applications from the inside. As a recipient, I had earlier been helped immensely by an occasional travel or research grant that enabled a book to be completed. In those days the Scottish Arts Council (SAC) operated modestly rom a couple of converted Haymarket houses, and its function was clear-cut. As well as supporting the big enterprises such as Scottish Opera, it provided vital sums of money – often quite small – that could make the difference between surviving and not surviving in the choppy waters of freelance creative work.
But everything changed. Perhaps in a wave of euphoria following the construction of the Parliament building, a mixture of ambition and spin swept over Scotland like a tidal wave. Grubby little artists were out; the big art business was in. The SAC morphed, slowly, painfully and expensively, into Creative Scotland. It designed a numbingly dull logo at dizzying cost and moved into a glass palace behind Waverley station, a prime Edinburgh site.
Individual artists began to realise that they no longer mattered. Those who ventured to seek support for a new project were told they should raise a first thousand from elsewhere, then Matched Funding might be available. For those already struggling to survive, as artists commonly do, that was not helpful. A lot of potentially good work died before it was born. Depression grew. Artists tend not to be business people. They are prepared to live on next to nothing because of the absolute imperative to pursue and develop a creative idea, and even when successful, they seldom swim happily in the world of form-filling and accountancy. As Creative Scotland sailed on, an unhappy silence set in, which did nothing to convey the dismay felt by countless working artists. It was the established leaders of the profession, secure enough not to care what the new organisation thought or did, who opened a counter-attack. Don Paterson, one of Scotland’s leading poets, wrote a strongly critical letter that hit the headlines, and since then, Creative Scotland has been blasted by a communication from 400 of the country’s most eminent writers, musicians and artists, demanding a rethink.
Sir Sandy Crombie, Chairman of the Creative Scotland board (formerly chief executive of Standard Life, which is hardly arts-related) said the board had been ‘taken aback’ by the intensity of criticism. He offered the excuse of ‘limitations and expectations’ imposed by the Government and Lottery on how their funds should be used, but that is exactly what must be tackled. The truth is, artists do not constitute a corporate Art Business. Like cats, they are difficult to herd and highly individual. The old SAC’s system of flexible funding understood this and embodied a hands-on working relationship with artists all over Scotland. In its place we have a glass monolith with a massive desire for self-publicity. It serves the abstract concept of Scottish Art, but has lost connection with the people who make art happen. The fact that the board admits to being ‘surprised’ by the strength of feeling expressed in the letter from the 400 leading artists tells its own story. Why were they surprised? Such blindness is a matter of national concern. Something has to change, and not in terms of adjustment to the window-dressing. Creative Scotland must listen to those who do the creating.
