Reimagining Our Futures by Serving the Body

In the context of this article, “dance,” “art,” and “arts” refer not just to those with degrees and institutional training, but to movement artists, artists, and dancers who use movement for expression, story-telling, ritual, community, physical exploration, performance, activism, spirituality, and mental health benefits—from professionals trying to make a living from dance and art, to people who use movement intentionally to have a sense of purpose or relief from the struggles and heaviness of modern life.

Past: Where We Came From

The work of creatives and artists is work that goes so unnoticed that members of the public often pass by art every day and don’t even recognize its presence. Yet, if there were to be an artist blackout, society would swiftly fall into an aesthetic, “spiritual,” cultural, and mental-emotional dystopia. Creativity is so ingrained in culture, it has become invisible. For decades, the arts have been financially squeezed, and in 2024 financial limitations, created by the way the New Zealand government is handling money, is wildly disheartening. Brutal, ongoing funding cuts promise an uncomfortable though exciting shift that is shaking many across the sector.

It is a dark time for the arts, but the despair we are experiencing offers a moment to change and empower ourselves to shape the sector how we want it. It’s a terrifying, uncertain journey that will be continual and feels very daunting. Perhaps because the picture hasn’t been broken down into small enough steps? Or because we are in a state of perfectionistic productivity? The opportunity to individually and collectively reassess, dream, stay educated and informed, engage in tiny acts of rebellion each day, find small ways to survive, and begin thinking sustainably is ripe. One singular person’s ideology and belief is a spark which can impact many others to ignite change; change through daily acts of embodiment, bravery, and practice. To be an activist in this era, is to be an artist. To be an artist is to engage with the rawness of life in all its discomfort and beauty.

"We are at a critical point in the earth's history. Like it or not, we are participants in this epic transformation, and there's no time to waste. We need to create new forms of wealth. We need to build new relationships, and transform our old relations of domination. We need to heal our bodies, restore our communities and challenge those who are damaging the planet and its inhabitants. We need to celebrate life in all its diversity and complexity. We need to build new communities, create local economies, and promote sustainable and ecologically friendly businesses. We need to tell different stories, stories of possibilities, stories of hope. We need to cultivate new ways of being so we can be present in the world as it is.”
— Memo Akten, transcribed from Distributed Consciousness exhibition, ACMI, 2024

Our bodies are deeply connected to the land and the land to our bodies: both, a complex intersection of socio-politics, psychology, culture, upbringing, and historical impacts. In Western hegemony, this connection is most often severely ignored. To shift the perspective of individual-centric thinking requires a certain kind of ego death that is uncomfortable, discombobulating, and not something most humans actively choose to go through. We are raised in an era of “perfection,” of needing to be “right,” of needing to be the “best.” Yet, there is no one “right” way of doing things: we all benefit from fighting capitalism and colonization, despite the discomfort of transmutation, differences of thought and opinion, and by standing up for the rights of the earth and living things.

Polyvagal Theory—a relatively new theory developed in 1994 by neuroscientist and psychologist Stephen Porges—contends that the body/mind/emotions are connected, and this connection impacts the way we behave, depending on different states of arousal. The three main states of arousal are: regulated, fight/flight, and freeze/shutdown. Newer therapy styles, like somatic therapy, observe this from a physiological lens as opposed to limiting it to just a psychological lens.

The Body Keeps The Score (Bessel van der Kolk, 2014), and much of Gabor Maté’s work has found evidence our bodies store memories and emotional information that our thoughts, visual memories, and rational brains can’t access as easily. In someone regulated, their body can remain in a state of ease. The amygdala—the part of the brain associated with our emotional processing—and the frontal lobe—the part of the brain associated with regulating voluntary actions. In fight/flight, the amygdala overrides the frontal lobes. This is an important survival mechanism for mammals: When we sense danger, we either fight or run away. In freeze/shutdown, the brain does just that—completely shuts down. This is when our nervous system is completely overwhelmed and the fight/flight response is no longer able to serve us.

In van der Kolk’s research, fight/flight/freeze responses were studied in relation to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Van der Kolk recognized through a combination of group talk therapy (e.g. war veterans who’d been through similar experiences in the Vietnam war), and somatic therapy (which focussed on processing and regulating emotions through movements and the body) that clients who had been suffering from symptoms of PTSD were much more effectively treated than those undergoing just talk therapy. Stephen Porges’ work around Polyvagal Theory looks at the way relationships, in particular, impact our states of arousal, be it experiences or incidences with close family, lovers, friends, colleagues or in broader relational settings, and the cultural expectations indoctrinated into how we think/feel/behave.

Taking a sociological viewpoint and applying the same theory to generations of traumatized individuals and communities, it’s evident that Westernized ideologies—by design or unconsciously—have instilled fear in our very cells. An important emotion for survival has been capitalized on. Many, especially marginalized and minority groups—including lower class and lower socio-economic earners—have inherited intergenerational trauma rooted in fear. Fear freezes us into inaction or makes us rationalize and overplan, without taking action against large organizations like governments, corporations, or to improve greater systemic issues. The idea that one or a few people have power over many can sometimes be disheartening, exhausting, and terrifying.

Many leftist arts and arts-adjacent activists want to feel useful, but we sometimes mistake rationality, philosophizing, and overplanning as a solution. Actioning those plans is integral to change, and this aspect of great change requires discipline, resilience, frustration, discomfort, and patience. It’s the hardest part of activism. This is not a criticism of how we function; this is a survival mechanism. We are in a state of ongoing collective, traumatic turmoil that is complex and painful to unpack and will be continual. Accepting that a utopia cannot exist, and instead that a better world is possible, can help.

Layers of intertwined complexity keep people in a state of inaction, which repels change. Lack of time, self-doubt, financial limitations, and the mismatch in compatibility between art and capitalism hit hard on artists' self-esteem, in valuing what we do. Many other essential work sectors have obvious tangible and materialistic outcomes. However, the arts sector, like the mental health sector, has results that are more difficult to measure statistically, making it much harder to prove “success” under capital values.

In Naomi Klein’s work The Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism, Klein critically examines how economic and political elites use crises to impose neoliberal policies, often to the detriment of ordinary people. She argues that “disaster capitalism” is a deliberate and systematic strategy, and criticizes Milton Freedman’s advocacy for “shock therapy” (see paragraph two). Shock therapy centres on the exploitation of national crises—disasters or upheavals—to establish controversial and questionable policies, while citizens are too distracted (emotionally and physically) to engage, in order to develop an adequate response and effectively resist. The regimes/disasters Klein refers to include: the 1973 Coup D’Etat in Chile, the 2003 invasion of Iraq, and the Israel and Palestine horrors that have been ongoing since the nineteenth century.

Such reforms often lead to increased inequality, loss of public services, and social dislocation. Corporate and neo-liberal actions, allowed by governments and powerful private companies, take advantage of social upheavals. In Aotearoa, we see neoliberalism’s impact on our cost of living, which has increased by approximately 7.7% in 2023. As of March 2024, the country was officially in a recession, with job cuts in many ministries, and closures to NZ news and media. It’s disastrous. For the arts, organizations have or will be hugely impacted by this: Creative New Zealand (CNZ) mentioned in late 2023 that the organization would be operating with $5 million less per year, and potentially have more cuts from the lottery grants this year in 2024.

For years, the arts sector has been stuck in cycles of having multiple conversations, multiple strategy meetings, and multiple check-ins. Whilst important and valid to reimagine our futures, this type of consultation is often based on outdated models that are extractive and concerned with profitable business. While art can operate from a business perspective in some cases, it’s becoming more difficult and is generally unsustainable. In the latest round of CNZ funding, their Creative Fellowship Fund received 612 eligible applications, whose applicants requested a total of $21 million. Eight percent of those were funded. 55 projects received a total of $1.8 million.

The amount of time it takes to put together an application for arts funding, and to then receive numerous rejections—as many artsmakers experience—is not only disheartening but incredibly difficult to create long-term prospects for emerging, mid-career, or established practitioners on a societal level. We see impacts from such a small “pie” in the way organizations, collectives, and individuals work around each other. “Tall Poppy Syndrome” is still very much a struggle, along with nepotism and high rates of burnout. Inadequate funding is not the fault of CNZ; it’s a systematic issue. New Zealand is a country that is still learning the value of arts, and the importance of advocating for the arts sector.

Recently, The Big Idea analyzed and predicted potential issues for arts workers under a government that does not value arts. On paper, it’s unsustainable, but with the current societal impacts on hauora, arts are even more essential. Class gaps across the globe are increasing, which impacts indie artists’ ability to make—because time is required, and people are spending far more of that precious “commodity” working, exhausted, or prioritizing other commitments out of necessity.

Art and capitalism keep getting forced to integrate, sacrificing sustainability and hauora. It does not work. Art does not originate as a practice or lifestyle to make money. Art is about more intangible, immeasurable, but vital necessities. According to a report written by CNZ and Kantar Public in 2023, people attend arts for:

Connection | Expression | Expansion | Memories | Psychological Wellbeing | Financial Wellbeing

In multiple cases, national or global disasters have proven the need for arts. Covid lockdowns in Aotearoa, while traumatic in many ways, gave artists time and the need to breathe and create. We saw numerous examples of works developed or shown during the pandemic, from social media’s increase in people sharing expression, entertainment, and heartfelt think-pieces online, to cute suburban displays of community art, to deeply moving works in more traditional artistic settings/mediums. The art was less about the final product but was used to express and connect in a time of profound disconnection. We recognized arts did not have to be limited to theatre spaces or specific venues. While these spaces have been important and have their place, they are not the be-all and end-all. Art was more accessible and community-oriented: in our streets, in unexpected places, and by everyone. The same thing happened after the earthquakes in Ōtautahi. Moments of existentialism in the recent history of Aotearoa and the world are where we ask why we are here, when everything feels so intense. We ask what we have left when things are hard on a near-survival level. These are the moments where art and basic human rights are most needed.

Despite the numerous collective traumas from COVID-19 and lockdowns, it became evident that with a slower pace, more time in dreaming and making, and better income for some artists, many works were jaw-droppingly profound. Live stage works (Scenes from a Yellow Peril, Manu Malo, The Writer), albums (Trees), poetry/novels (Talia, Poor People With Money), and developments of works coming out at the tail end of the bubbles we lived in. Some notable organizations also made the most of the lessons we learned from Covid lockdowns. Auckland Fringe Festival, Silo Theatre, PAT, and Basement Theatre, to name a few, put their previously “impressive” productivity (from a capitalist product perspective) from pre-Covid on hold to reform, reflect, and slow down. Because of this, they were given time and space to shift their focus on what they make, how they care for artists, and how organizations function. In a closer-to-home sense, communities started to engage in acts of art in small ways: community is the heart of where art originates. While simple, curiously hidden teddy bears gave us something to engage with, look out for, and keep worried minds occupied as we went on our daily walks. Community arts should always be prioritized; that is one of the most accessible ways we engage in art/s, as artists and audiences alike. If the pandemic has taught or shown us anything, it is that time to deconstruct, reassess, and shift to more sustainable ways of working is crucial. Especially given the conditions of finances, time, capacity, hauora, and the demands of modern life on us in all facets.

“The very lack of a recovery period is dramatically holding back our collective ability to be resilient and successful.”
— Shawn Achor & Michelle Gielan, Harvard Business Review, 2016

Neither the arts sector nor basic human rights are being looked after across the globe—and one could argue the two are inextricably linked. Long gone are the congratulatory moments in driveway bubbles as we propel forward into a post-pandemic, late-capitalism-fueled recession. Collective upheavals like the earthquakes in Ōtautahi or the pandemic have illuminated the attitudes that undervalue and disregard essential workers; illuminations that many have quickly forgotten as we’ve returned to an even more intense work life. Essential workers—including artists—are still severely underpaid and undervalued, and often don’t have the inherited privileges of the middle and upper classes. Since the 1990s, various governments’ lack of willingness to allow contractors to, at a minimum, advocate for fair pay agreements—is atrocious. Many contractors are essential arts workers. Essential workers should be prioritized, as we are responsible for keeping society together and functioning. New Zealand is particularly backward in its treatment of artists. In places like Australia, more in-depth work opportunities exist, like the Awards System.

“Contractors generally cannot bargain collectively, because this would amount to anti-competitive behaviour prohibited by the Commerce Act.”

In 2020, under the Labour Government, the Ministry of Business, Innovation, and Employment (MBIE) deferred including contractors in FPAs for a second time since the mid-90’s because of the complex nature of what it is to be a contractor—as anyone who’s worked in the arts already knows. Equity New Zealand worked hard to get screen sector workers collective negotiation power until early 2023, only to have a lot of hard work put into Fair Pay Agreements scrapped by the current government.

In the live performance sector of the arts, art (in the context of its functioning) is becoming increasingly inaccessible for audiences and artists because of costs. Venues that house live performance, especially in CBDs and central suburbs of main cities, are affected by the increased cost of rent and business expenses. The workers at these venues are impacted greatly by inflation that isn’t met by wage increases. Venues’ overheads are more expensive and are struggling to make ends meet. Fewer artists can afford to make work in what used to be the ‘mainstream’ spaces. At the same time, we are seeing large numbers of audiences affected by job losses, which impact ticket sales because of the recession, job losses, and the cost of living increases all around. Much like the lungs and heart—organs essential to life—art resides in each moment of our existence without us always being aware of its presence. If it were to be redacted, our lives would be no more.

It’s been a nerve-wracking yet incredible time to reflect and remind ourselves what art is for—when we have the privilege to do so. Among many, there is hesitancy. We are in a time and space where evolution is necessary so the arts may stay alive—and they always will. To embrace it to the fullest extent possible, we must step out of what is comfortable and familiar and take action that serves the people and the planet. This is an era when art and artists are being called to metamorphose through true creativity, bravery, adaptability, and by coming together to stand for humanitarian justice. Otherwise, we will continue to see artists and arts-adjacent workers being adversely affected by inconsistent, inconsiderate long-term policy, or moving overseas in the short-term, further exacerbating the issues that already exist in the arts in Aotearoa.

Present: Where We Are Now?

In a highly individualistic society, and especially as essential workers in the arts, it is easy to look solely at ourselves or solely at the outside world when things aren’t working. It’s here that apathy, blame, or maintaining the status quo keeps real shifts from happening on an individual and societal level. We oppose honest self- and societal-reflection because it is disruptive, destabilizing, uncomfortable, and generally heralds a sense of intense grief. Grief, with many complex intertwined emotions from despair to rage to mania to isolation. Many of these emotions, under capitalism, are not encouraged to be felt, expressed, or even experienced in our bodies because they are not “productive” emotions. They do not serve the efficiency and linearity that colonization or capitalism requires. We see this very evidently in our system in the scarce amount of time we get to mourn loved ones. Bereavement leave for employees is three days paid. For contractors there are no minimum days required for bereavement. Whether on a conscious or somatic level, many of us sense that the system we live in is not working for us, for living beings. However, it is imperative that we experience these emotions: to integrate our history, our present state, and what we want to move toward. Increasingly, research emphasizes the importance of allowing ourselves to experience and express the full range of emotions in a healthy manner rather than repressing them.

To breathe, to create, to find meaning, we embody physiologies. Our bodies integrate different aspects of our identity(ies): class, race, gender, sexuality, abilities, histories, politics, and more. Most workplaces that employ “essential workers” have a common theme of needing the body to be active—often demanding physical labour—to carry out the work. The importance of essential workers in sectors like healthcare, education, supermarkets, therapy, sex workers, and artists—especially live artists—was not taken seriously in the advocacy and budgeting of our past-Labour government, nor the current National government. These are also not sectors that have a future that is anywhere near close to being able to be taken over by technology. Seeing memes where Artificial Intelligence (AI) tries to be creative is comical because creativity relies on the invaluableness and complexity of lived experience. The binary nature of capitalism, patriarchy, and finance is prioritized over the complexity and nuance of wellbeing. Already in 2024, major governmental shifts have set in motion an ever-widening class gap. Those holding society together are often the most stretched mentally, emotionally, physically, relationally, and existentially.

“...where the top 10% own 60–70% of the wealth and the bottom half—two and a half million New Zealanders—hold just 2%, we have a foundational problem.”
— Chloe Swarbrick, Richest NZers don’t pay their fair share—and Parliament can fix it, 26 April 2023

Pay equity has come to the forefront with the National-Act-NZ First government. Aotearoa steps closer to being under some kind of insidious, neo-oligarchic-led nation. Under capitalism, wellbeing and social welfare are not “efficient” in the service of capitalism because emotions/feelings create inefficient workers. Art—especially live art—is inefficient in the service of capitalism because it requires much more time, resources, skill upkeep, and education than any project budget can realistically allocate.

CNZ’s recent Profile of Creative Professionals found the median pay for a creative is $37,000 per annum from all sources of income (hospitality, events, retail, etc. as well as arts-related work). This is compared to the median income of a worker in Aotearoa, which is around $70,000. It is sobering to see that the median income from solely arts-related work is $19,500. Worse yet, the average dancer's annual income could not be presented in the CNZ 2023 published State of the Arts Survey, as there was insufficient data to present reliable information:

“... Unfortunately, the 2022 survey had a much lower response rate than the 2018 survey. In 2018 1,142 respondents completed the income question, whereas only 454 completed the income question in 2022. Specifically, there were 26 Dance respondents in 2022 compared with 54 in 2018. So the decision was made to group ‘Dance’ with ‘Acting and Theatre Production’ into the Performing Arts category to provide a larger sample and thus more robust results.

“However, the separate results for ‘Dance’ with ‘Acting and Theatre Production’ were provided in the footnote on Slide 14 ‘Personal income (after expenses) by artform’ in the main report, given that they were reported separately in 2018. The footnote reads: “Performing arts combines acting and theatre production with dance. When split out, acting and theatre production artists earn a median of $36,500 per year, while dancers earn a median of $33,500. Note, the sample size for dancers is low (n=26), please interpret these findings with caution.””
— response to email query, CNZ Communications Department, 9 June 2023

So, a good increase from the 2018 income figure, albeit from a small sample so caution is required in interpreting the result…

One only needs to look at CNZ x Colmar Brunton’s 2018 research to see that dance is the lowest-paid art form, with dancers earning $17.5k per year from all forms of work, not just dance/arts-related work.

While it may be tempting to attribute this to laziness or disengagement on the part of dancers, it is important to analyse why this may be the case. There are well over 26 (2022 results)—and even 54 (2018 results)—dancers in Tāmaki Makaurau alone. Perhaps instead of attributing low income results to laziness, we consider the alternative reasons this could occur, such as CNZ’s researchers not reaching out properly to key individuals in the dance sector to gather sufficient data (indicating that the sector is not prioritized as something requiring data—further evidenced by the lack of dance works funded by CNZ in recent arts grant rounds), dancers in Aotearoa being overwhelmed with the task of making ends meet, and therefore lacking the capacity or time to complete the necessary calculations to fill out the survey due to being overworked and underpaid. The list of potential factors is endless.

Dance is a poignant sector to illustrate how the body, in all its intersectionality, is oppressed. The body is one of the most potent catalysts for humans to feel, be moved by, and be challenged by. The oppression of movement artists happens in numerous ways, some of the most intense being: financial, cultural, and mental/emotional. Western-style dance forms—prominent in Aotearoa—have a bleak history of power struggles, tyrannical leaders, and trauma. Part of the issue has to do with the commodification of art. Dance, again, in particular, is a strong example of this. Capitalism and colonization have bastardized what dance was originally evolved for. Movement has and always will be an essential need for humans, so it makes sense that dance, as an art form, embodies the oppression it so heavily carries. It is a pillar of humanity for hauora, especially as it engages the body, mind, emotions, spirit, and social connection. Under the “productivity” demands of a capitalist society, dance as a lifestyle and art form has continued to be wrung out of anything it has reimagined, resulting in less funding for dance projects. For capitalism to work successfully, efficiency is necessary.

Because many dance styles require a high degree of fitness and embodiment of the craft, a lot more time committed to professional upkeep is necessary. This increases the amount of hours dancers must work and train. Under capitalism, this isn’t efficient. With limited funds, dance companies, organizations, and collectives must attempt to meet the cap of funding allocations, which impacts the rates dancers are paid. This impacts wider aspects of putting together dance productions: a lack of budget not only limits dancers’ fair remuneration, but also the amount of marketing that can be done, which is key in developing audiences. The dance scene in Aotearoa has powerful creatives, choreographers, and movers. It is also the lowest-paid of all the arts (see CNZ Profile of Creative Professionals). Because of this lack of funding, less dance is programmed, which diminishes audiences' exposure to dance and, over the last 20 years or so, has seen a drop in dance works produced.

Through deconstructing the origin of dance and why it is beneficial to society, we understand that hope is not lost. In Aotearoa, there is an incredible long-awaited recognition and uplift of street dance—forms which are generally more connected to the less elitist and Western-colonized reasons for dancing. There are crews, groups, and dancers who have been around for years staying true to what dance is at its core: Projekt Team, Faale Heads, Krump Klub, XIII WRLD, and Coven are just a few of the incredible groups reminding us to reground ourselves with what dance is. Their leaders are relentless in their care and passion for dancers and have been taking Aotearoa and the world by storm with their commitment to their craft and servitude to their belief in the power of dance. In addition to battles and comps, they aim to foster internal and external connection in multiple ways: through providing spaces for the community, by providing friendly competition, by offering a space for people to express, learn, and connect, and by harnessing the bodies innate need to express who we are through movement in our own bodies, and in relation to others.

By investing in dance, movement, and dance therapy as art forms that greatly benefit the general public, more money will circulate the sector, creating more jobs, more work, and a better ecosystem overall for dancers and movement artists. In the long term, there is a lot more mahi to do to systematically shift the recognized need for movement, dance, and non-elitist arts as a whole. The push for dance and mindful movement in society and a shift away from capitalist models is necessary to uphold the longevity of humans and the planet.

One of the most important assets we have as performing artists is the body. While controversial pop queen Grimes and insufferable genius Elon Musk have wild dreams of being able to upload our data to the cloud, our bodies will remain essential for life and the ecosystem as we know it. While AI is predicted to eventually make certain jobs obsolete: lawyers, accountants, marketers, etc., the body and the land, paired with creativity, may be more critical to our survival and should be made a priority to preserve humanity. Live arts will be the place people turn to for meaning as technology accelerates in its advances and existentialism intensifies.

Future: Where Are We Going?

Society needs people who think, feel, and critique like independent artists do. Artists are essential to disrupting the status quo and continuing to dissect, dismantle, and speak out about issues like racism, classism, sexism, and ageism in ways that are digestible, punchy and effectively communicated. Those who can’t ignore Te Tiriti or devalue certain groups of people, those who think critically about our world, and those who desire the betterment of society are some of the bravest and most iconoclastic members of society. Many of them are artists, even without realising it. At the moment, indies are massively experiencing the brutality of terrible pay and, even more intensely, facing the need to conform to a malfunctioning system. The crucial question becomes: how can we look after the smaller, less “economically viable” sectors within arts? Dancers. Theatre-Makers. Street Artists. Musicians. Poets. These forms of art are not prioritized by the public, yet they are critical to wellbeing, and the work often goes unrecognized as having such importance.

As interconnected entities, both environments (land/body) are a complex array of internal and external relational environments that continually impact one another. They serve complex problems and beautiful solutions: on the planet, within society, and in ourselves. They also pose the question of what is essential for sustainable survival. It seems imperative we revolt against failing economic and political systems by investing in our bodies and land. As a combatant to capitalism, as a combatant to the climate disaster, as a combatant to oppression of life. An uncomfortable and empowering reality that our bodies are more than capable—especially through art and activism—to rebel against a system that is so far beyond beneficial to all life and freedom. Especially through collectivism. We saw this on a micro-level when people across Tāmaki came together to revolt about the proposed council funding cuts for arts and culture. In an ideal democracy, if there is enough outrage, we—theoretically—should be heard.

2024 is scary, especially as the arts and arts work continues to be debated: whether it is essential or not. Numerous studies cite an innate need for arts in society, with a range of benefits necessary for our survival. This article is a good, simple, summary of some of the advantages of the arts. With impacts of the climate disaster looming, wars raging, genocides happening, and further intensities of late-stage capitalism, time is of the essence to do humanitarian and climate activist mahi, especially for those of us who have been benefiting from centuries of systematic oppression. Without a planet, there are no people, and without people, the economy wouldn’t exist (see image in this article). At a minimum, we should all be engaging in ways to get basic survival needs met. We must continue to deeply analyse issues/topics/subjects within society/organizations/collectives/companies, and critically analyse our responses to these issues/topics/subjects. It’s also urgent to turn our analysis into action. Internationally, we can tangibly see the need for arts—in the global response to the genocide horrors in Palestine. The grief and rage we experience in response to the atrocity and injustice of Zionist aggression must move somewhere—especially given the minimization tactics deployed by centrist and right-wing governments across the world, or those too privileged to care.

In a Palestine protest in November, last year in Aotea Square, a young woman from Egypt was invited to read a poem that she’d written in response to Palestine. Before she read it out, she said something like, “I’ve been writing poetry for many years. Only my best friend knows that I write poetry. Not even my parents know. But the horrors of what is happening in Palestine are too hard to hold onto anymore.” She then proceeded to read out a ten-minute poem that brought Aotea Square protestors to tears. This young woman put into words the pain that we all feel witnessing such horror and tragedy. Other events like pop-up fundraisers have been beautiful to witness. Rand Hazou, Acacia O’Connor and Hone Tukiri put on a week-long festival, The Gaza Dialogues, at Basement to fundraise. The festival brought together artists and communities in solidarity, and facilitated connection, which is crucial in fighting against such injustice. Palestine is just one potent example, but colonization continues across the globe—overtly and covertly—the latter, perhaps, the more difficult to challenge and shift long-term, as it’s so deeply embedded into ideologies. Conservative attitudes that deny genocide have forced allies of decolonization and those suffering to turn to expression through protest, art, and activism. Now, more than ever, the work of artists has a purpose: globally, interpersonally, and intrapersonally. Arts in activism in action.

Following a Dignity and Money Now (DAMN) gathering in 2023 with Chlöe Swarbrick, the idea of brainstorming our dream future society and then working backward into smaller steps was one encouraged approach. Activism and advocacy is better broken down into small chunks to serve the bigger picture, while ensuring we stay connected to the dream scenario (and assessing where that may shift). While utopia will never be attainable, holding onto our humanity can help us make steps towards better treatment of people and the planet.

Activism with haste, overanalysis from fear, a desire for “perfection,” and engagement in black-and-white thinking (all of which are easy to enter into from an activist mindset, from a desire to get sh*t done ASAP) can be counter-intuitive to what activism during late-stage capitalism requires. Opposing reactive states feels uncomfortable. Sick days at work, for example, are often taken with guilt and anxiety of piling up emails, the money we may lose out on, or the workload our colleagues must take on to support us. Society has normalized pushing through sick days, eventually leading to burnout. A perfect recipe for relationship breakdowns, worsening long-term health conditions, and exacerbated mental illness.

Many of us living in modern life are forced to function while severely dysregulated—a concept taken from polyvagal theory. A living being cannot function sustainably when they are dysregulated. Dysregulation is an important survival necessity and can be used to teach us that something is perceived unsafe. We are not meant to live in a constant state of dysregulation, however. It is through slowing down, taking time, using mindful and compassionate approaches that people can live more fulfilling lives, and, in turn, extend that approach to other living things—the planet included. It is a huge and rare privilege to slow down in modern society. Time in the morning to be mindful, and allow our bodies time to digest properly is important for our parasympathetic nervous system, so our brains have support to stay regulated. In modern city life in Aotearoa, though, this is almost impossible, and not encouraged as something to be prioritized. But in micro moments, we can find intentional acts of slowness. Through these small, gentle acts of resistance, we can create a ripple effect, impacting others’ beliefs and behaviours by being strong in our need for restoration. A simple example is turning our auto-reply on when we’re out of office so we don’t feel the need to constantly refresh emails.

The DAMN gathering also highlighted the importance of considering a long-term approach with a combination of a ground-up and top-down approaches in shifting policy. Policy in democracy is informed by ideology; ideology is something that can take a long time to shift, as it requires a majority of people’s beliefs to be changed at a core level.

For the aspect of activism that is the ground-up approach, reflecting on our own self, understanding decolonial ideas, integrating those ideas in action, and staying connected to bigger picture happenings—like those in grassroots movements—is a starter. The more we delve into understanding our individual biases, deconstruct our unconscious behaviours, recognize our privileges, and gently probe our thoughts and belief systems, the more we will be able to work on healthier interpersonal connections. This involves non-violent communication, cultivating compassion, engaging in deep listening, fostering honest communication, and embracing comfort in diversity. While we are individuals, we exist within communities where consensus on every detail isn’t necessary; healthy disagreement is possible, even preferable. We can pursue common goals through a variety of approaches, even while differing on the specifics of what or how.

The top-down approaches discussed in the DAMN gathering included actions like submitting letters to parliament, protests, rallying, and calling out policies that are not serving the greater good of humanity and the planet. The most difficult aspect of this approach is to not shift the blame onto individuals but to remember everyone embodies—through privilege, pitfalls, and beliefs/behaviour—a corrupt system weighed down by generational issues. We must think and feel ways we can integrate the discomfort of generations of oppressed human rights with the greater needs of each faction of society as a whole, and use them to serve a purpose. To address these issues with care, compassion, and wisdom is crucial: rather than pit individual against individual, or individual against larger bodies. Though the latter admittedly have more power, we can work to find allies who are willing to deconstruct the complexity of what has enabled all the “isms.”

With the current state of things, the future feels grim. There is hope. It is brave and rebellious to start listening to what our bodies say and honour those needs. It’s incredibly courageous to learn the art of healthy relating with others: even in disagreement and conflict, we can still care for one another. It is smart to recognize that larger historical, sociological, and political issues are what we are up against, and that they do impact us individually, and our ability to be around others. We are in a state of uncomfortable transmutation that promises an exciting opportunity to deconstruct outdated traditions. Movement and dance is a way to safely harness discomfort, complex emotions, and foster connection. Through moving, we can allow space for fear, anger,  joy, pain, and the absurdity of being alive. So much of the modern world has relied on human dissociation and avoidance of feelings, but slowly it seems to be coming to an end—that is if we want to save our planet and all living beings. By holding space for ourselves in all our complexity, we can reimagine and action steps toward a future where arts are considered essential, and the land, body, and relationships are the centre of our focus. To break down and rebuild is a beautiful, confronting, painful, and joyful experience.

Our Bodies Are Home | Our Body Is Intersectional

Now is a time to share resources/adaptations of resources that are artist-aligned, and which artists have found helpful/creative in their daily functioning. Here are some excellent resources found/created/adapted in research for this article for artists’ survival, so that together we can find ways to focus on the bigger picture.

Engaging in a little bit of activism everyday makes up a lot over a long period of time. 20 minutes a day of educating yourself, advocating for better treatment of people/planet across a week is 2 hours 20 minutes. Across a year that’s 120 hours. Amongst 100 people, that’s 12,000 hours. Stay educated, stay engaging in critical thinking, and don’t get caught.

• https://artsmakersaotearoa.nz/Artists-Fees

• https://www.fairwork.gov.au/employment-conditions/awards/awards-summary/ma000081-summary

• https://www.amberliberte.com/activism.html

By implementing small daily activities on various scales, we can:

• Fight for ALL members of a project/company/organization to have their ideals/beliefs etc. engaged, to have equal pay (based on time, knowledge, commitment)

• Fight to have BIPOC/LGBTQIAK+ not just included, but embraced with the wisdom, knowledge, experience, culture, and skills that are inherently essential to a company in a deep way

• When engaging in work, check the background of things and ask questions:

  • Who is the company?

  • Do they get funding from CNZ/government/private/patrons?

  • Are they privately/corporately funded?

  • Are they community arts or other?

  • Are they posing to be community arts but have private funders or government money?

  • If they have money, how much are they allowing for artists vs how much SHOULD they allow for indie artists—ask for what you’re worth!

• Set a fair rate of pay for ourselves based on research and resources available

• Ensure we are paying others fairly

• Advocate for people to be paid over equipment/gear hire costs being prioritized

• Thinking outside the box when it comes to rehearsal/presentation of a work

• Recognize that not ALL organizations/companies/collectives are evil Machiavellians

• Recognize that many organizations NEED the individual voice to speak up so that THEY can help the individuals advocate for more financial backing at a systematic level: if we uprise WITH those organizations, we have more power

• Recognize that we, as individuals, can talk amongst ourselves and share what we think are appropriate wages based on the type of work we’re doing

• Recognize that between each individual and your personal ideals vs organizations/companies/collectives may not always be in harmony: this is GOOD thing, this is nuance, this is a chance for each entity to critically analyse, speak up where necessary, and progress