Editorial

Notes on Money

We’re a few episodes into Industry Season 3 (“Money is an illusion; it’s a social construct built on trust”) and the Pet Shop Boys’ Opportunities (Let’s Make Lots of Money) has been running and running round and round in our heads.

We initially planned the timing of this issue release for a year ago, in the lead-up to Aotearoa’s 2023 General Election—a topical issue, we thought, particularly given the almost complete lack of consideration for the arts in any of the political parties’ policy statements. No one was running on the arts lol not lol. We thought it timely also given the relative paucity of arts funding as we came out of the boom of the inflated budgets of the pandemic, and into the bust.

And wow. Now. The situation feels waaayyyyyyy more intense and desperate: on a local, societal scale in Aotearoa with the broader “cost of living” crisis, the impact of the prospect of the undermining and undoing of decades of good work to foster Te Tiriti o Waitangi principles (even the suggestion undermines), out to the global scape of ongoing genocide, environmental destruction, technological revolution, and volatile international politics.

Doing it for the love of it is sometimes working for free.

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In framing this issue, we considered:

— what money is, what it does, in art and creative industries

— work v time v labour v money, competition v cooperation, coalition, collaboration

— alternative models of art exchange, production, and presentation

— funds, capital, business, costs, finances, budgets, notes, coins, change…

Please, change!

Money is power. Who pays? Grants, prizes, contestable funding, income, “sustainability,” precarity. What are the costs of creating? In the current political/social climate, what are our collective dreams for a viable way forward?

We wanted BLOT’s Issue 3 to interrogate the context of arts funding structures in Aotearoa, a paucity of state funding, arts policy, and political vision, and the variety of ways in which making music/sound/performance here is precipitated by and dependent upon accessibility to resources.

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We reckons it’s promising that some arts funding bodies (yes, bodies) (populated by people) recently looked to change tac(k)/tic: towards a more trusting, speculative model by which artists could be provided for, with time, materials, and resources to explore, play, experiment, and create. Read: how artists develop a practice without having to run around desperately making “ends” meet.

We would know, both recently in job-jobs working in university administration and cycling infrastructure… (yes, Dominic’s line, “a minute of silence for all the interesting people lost to professionalism” cut deep). All this to say, yes, we live in the means, the journey, not the ends. We’re not interested in “wins”—this is not a competition, there is no ladder, and we have no desire to “get ahead!” (of whom? aren’t we all in this together?!)

He toa taumata rau—let’s gather our collective energies for the hard graft, and make sure to enjoy rest and celebrate milestone moments, large and small, along the way.

And so we look to contributor voices to impart an overview of perspectives—assessments of and insights into the current state of things—to offer some courage and hope for a way forward.

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Juanita Hepi views the joyful, radical work of Maungarongo Ron Te Kawa, and interrogates the way it challenges coloniality through stories told with “sequins… and glitter… and energy.”

Dominic Hoey extends a poetic call, a proposal, a theory of general relativity on a human / people (gens in Fr.) / relational level, and asks essential questions of power, status, access, and who we all are underneath it all.

Madeleine Pierard’s contribution traverses the arts funding landscape in Aotearoa and makes a case both for greater leadership and for the unique value of that very expensive artform: opera.

Adam Ben-Dror and Chris Berthelsen offer new ways to think about value as they propose a collaborative, creative vision for a sustainable and inclusive practice … using cloud photography to become a cloud millionAIRe.

Alex MacDonald reflects on his dual life as a musician and barista, navigating the complexities of underpaid gigs, artistic integrity, and the challenge of maintaining a sustainable career in the arts.

Samuel Holloway (your BLOT co-editor) examines the state of play for new music in Aotearoa, and wonders about ways to shake off this gnawing sense of precariousness.

Amber Liberté provides an expansive reflection on the past, present, and future states of the arts in Aotearoa through a dancer-activist lens.

In this issue’s Questions for, Sasha Leitman describes her deep interest in technologically augmented music-making, the impact of knife-selling and Dolly Parton on her practice, and offers thoughts on housing, equity, and access to resources.

And, Aotearoa’s Poet Laureate Chris Tse explores how we celebrate the pop star journey from rags to riches—and the double standards we employ in scrutinizing their displays of wealth. He also provides a bangin’ playlist.

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We must, particularly in an issue about money, acknowledge BLOT’s funders: Creative New Zealand, Chartwell Trust, and John & Jo Gow. We are deeply grateful for your support. We are also deeply grateful to be able to do this mahi, and to evolve this platform which elevates artists’ voices.

At the same time, we acknowledge that we—like every artist / arts community, consistently—face a lot of rejection. We exist on the smell of an oily, in the air, juggling the balls, spinning the plates. We continue to advocate for fair pay, and are doing our darndest to boost contributor remuneration.

To Dave Currie, our wonderful web dev, thank you for continuing to be up for this wayward voyage. To the contributors to this issue, a thousand thanks for your time and energy, and for sharing your perspectives on this topic, which sit powerfully side by side, shoulder to shoulder.

Mauri ora
Arohanui

Antonia + $amuel
BLOT