April 20, 2019 § Leave a comment
Journalist Christy Romer has written an article for Arts Professional entitled, Arts Council England urged to replace Grantium.
Romer states, “Arts Council England (ACE) has admitted that it’s “intuitive” funding portal Grantium, intended to “bring [ACE] into the 21st Century”, is seen within the sector as a failure.”
This admission follows a public consultation into ACE’s forthcoming 10-year strategy.
For those of us – including those with hidden disabilities – who have battled quite vociferously with Grantium over the years it’s a case of, no shit Sherlock!
I have no compunction in saying that it is a truly dreadful, ableist, contraption, which could have been purpose built to frustrate and tangle the mind. Access help is available – but this has always been an add-on accommodation which many have not known about, and which in any case is not suitable for all.
I won’t go into the details of the newly published ACE report here, but rather I will focus on Grantium and the application system from a personal perspective.
When I myself answered the consultation document it was with dismay at yet another online form which didn’t fit, and which seemed instead to cover many irrelevancies to my professional life as an artist and latterly as an arts organiser.
The language ACE uses is rightly criticised – it is often jargonistic and hard to read or make sense of. It also speaks to artist applicants and arts organisations as though they were one and the same thing. This is a major issue, as it places individual artists under great and indue pressure at the point of both application for and delivery of an ACE funded project.
I feel that the possible attempt to ameliorate this through the creative practitioner funding stream is compromised by the relative smallness of this particular pot.
In addition I have long wanted a conversation about the more deeply rooted inaccessibility of the funding model for many individual artists that goes beyond any physical portal (dreadful or otherwise). Grantium in a sense is the symptom rather than the malady. I feel there’s something deeper and more grave at the heart of ACE’s ongoing diversity ‘conundrum’.
I often think of the current criteria for funding applications as a series of demonstrable promises which must be made to weight the application in your favour. The need to impress, to be seen to cover all the necessary bases and more, is a worry at best, and disabling at worst, where disability/divergence are concerned. In which case, one of the present choices at hand is to offer up the ‘divergent self’ as the project. But this in itself (while being a successful and robust strategy when offered knowingly), is not entirely equitable. Indeed, you must still make your application promises, and articulate them in the requisite jargon, in addition to opening yourself up to the kind of sharing not necessarily required by other groups.
Loathe Grantium as I do, despite my learning to use it and to succeed in applications, I am almost more disquieted by the latest ACE pronouncement on ‘relevance’ as a driver for funding, as reported by Romer.
In some ways protected groups like my own (autistics) have been and will continue to be at the forefront of funding opportunities (mainly as subjects or recipients) – we are socially relevant as a group. We’re just so beautifully and unequivocally ‘divergent’! But how well our needs will be matched through these means is an ongoing question. Whether we will be even more likely to be opportunistically ‘targeted’, and/or our divergence harvested by others is an open question.
What concerns me and what I encounter in my working life, are the needs of neurodivergent creatives who are disadvantaged by a heavily coded system, where demonstrating outcomes which are value driven apply equally to organisations and individuals. This is not consonant with meaningfully supporting artists, especially those with ‘protected characteristics’.
Paradoxically, artists like me are ‘relevant’ by our very nature, but demonstrating the relevance of our projects may be beyond our ken because it will be further encoded by a neurotypically-led bureaucracy
April 11, 2019 § 2 Comments
What NUNO has created – through it’s emphasis on people and relationships – is a warm hug.
Soon I will be asking the artists on the Arts Council England (ACE) funded Neither Use Nor Ornament (NUNO) project, how was it for you?
I have to do this as part of my evaluation process, but I’m also genuinely curious. This has been a unique project in which I have explored what it means to lead autistically (in my case).
I won’t have got things ‘right’ in all cases, but we made it to the finishing post of our exhibition opening in quite some style. I’m anxious to hear if and how my leadership has made a difference to the artist’s experiences of participation – and if this has further impacted their lives.
What I can tell you is what this project has done for me, by investing in my participation as a ‘player’ at a more senior level in my profession. In doing so I make the case for more of this for more of us. Autistic arts professionals are currently lacking such opportunity for progression – not only as artists but also as artist organisers. This needs to change.
It’s really very simple. In enabling me – through funding – to lead a significant project like NUNO, ACE have helped me to shift from a state of aversion to one of enthusiasm. Autistic aversion (in my case), I see now, was clearly fostered by a lifetime of exclusion. Not understanding neurotypical social code is perhaps where an autistic person begins in life, due to fundamental perceptual differences. What is less understood perhaps is the continued impact of this as a mechanism of our exclusion across a lifetime. Or indeed, what might happen in terms of ‘social appetite’ if the dynamic of exclusion were somehow ameliorated by genuine inclusion at any given point in time. It’s all so obvious once you’ve lived through it, but how many of us get this chance?
I feel we should be more aware that for some autistics social exclusion and a resulting aversion is a dynamic predicated on social bias, which once in play generates a serious barrier to our ability to decode social situations over a lifetime. Through such a dynamic myriad points of learning are lost, by which I mean two-way learning.
So what impact on the possibility of ‘social learning’ across neurologies can genuine inclusion make? I pose the question thinking that I know the answer. I think the impact can be highly significant because of the quality of my own experience in my shift from aversion to enthusiasm. Suddenly, elements of shared social spaces stack up. I am exposed to learning and foster learning in others. This is a two-way conversation.
I’m careful to mention the other side of the neurological coin in terms of learning (so-called neurotypicality). I’ve found that leading as an autistic person enables learning to flow in all directions. Neurotypical learning around me is probably the bit I can’t see, but which I reckon has made a whole heap of difference to how I am received and therefore to how I feel. I know that I am lucky in this regard – it can go so badly wrong when people can’t listen well. I’ve built up to this moment and have chosen my shared social spaces very carefully.
Being a ‘player’ has been vital to this process in which I now find myself wanting to engage with people and places in new and unexpected ways. I still crave a duvet day when life gets too busy, and I don’t love crowded events or small talk. I haven’t stopped being autistic – that not a thing, and I wouldn’t want it to be. What I’m talking about is appetite. The vital waters of my professional life no longer feel cold and uninviting. What NUNO has created – through it’s emphasis on people and relationships – is a warm hug.
Social anxiety and social sensitivity are often seen as negatives, but what if they have fostered a deep sense of responsibility and generated a high level of care for the people on my project? I myself know that they most definitely have. What also, if by some mechanism unknown to me – other than sharing my neurological status and leading autistically – I have been treated more carefully in return? I feel this must be true.
What if seizing the opportunity to lead autistically and to design my project as accessibly as possible has led to something really fundamental? I look forward to gathering more evidence for this exciting notion in the weeks to come.
Currently, we lack models for what is needed to challenge the stranglehold neurotypicality has had on our culture. The dynamic it creates for autistic people is, in my view, toxic. So I very much hope that in time NUNO may provide one such needed template for others to riff with.
March 22, 2019 § Leave a comment
This week I’ve had cause to think again about the question of autism as a label. My default position is to feel autism as an identity. For me this is joyful and unassailable. Try to wrest it off me at your peril.
My team and I are in the final run up to the Neither Use Nor Ornament exhibition, otherwise known as #NUNOproject. Our work has been to create an equal platform for two artists networks, one identifying as neurodivergent and the other as neurotypical. I’ve had to adapt the project as we’ve gone along, due to artists’ highly understandable sensitivity about ableism. It would be an understatement to say, we’re not there yet, re public perceptions about autism. You can read about this in a newly published, curated collection of blog posts on our lovely Museum for Object Research website.
In terms of the project this is something I’m still brain-wrangling. My priority has been to create optimal conditions of access and benefit to the artists involved, but if we’ve been funded on an autism ticket what does ditching labels mean in terms of delivering what we promised? We are, after all, committed to challenging public perception.
I am painfully aware of my disabilities at times. I am seriously compromised by dyslexia and dyscalculia, and this project has often pitched me against myself as project manager. I never felt so aware of my limitations in this regard – for me the rules of spelling and grammar are seriously disabling in ways I can barely explain. I will NEVER learn them, or be able to see on a page where my errors lie. In my world view, insistence on them is traumatic and oppressive. I will always fail to meet their standard, and can’t fully grasp why they matter. Computer says no.
Acquiring help is the obvious answer, but nonetheless, alone I cannot do the job. Don’t even get me started on numbers. The word nemesis doesn’t cover it.
Don’t doubt the shaming or exclusion involved in specific learning disability, nor the impact on a person’s life. I am seriously compromised when navigating new or complex travel systems, for example, which can render me as helpless as a baby, and entirely reliant on the kindness of strangers. And forgive me if you do identify as dyslexic or dyscalculic, what I am about to say is entirely personal to me as I do feel that autism is perceived differently. I understand that others might not agree.
However, foolish I may feel (or may have felt historically) I know at least that I am unlikely to be othered for my seeming ineptitude. I will generally be meet with sympathy, and usually kindness. Invariably, I meet someone wonderful who takes me under their wing and who goes the extra 500 yards to see me on my way.
Autism is different. Out yourself as autistic and you’ve got a whole new ball game going on. This is why I have yet to out myself to strangers in extremis, though I have been close to it several times since my diagnosis. A meltdown on public transport has only been averted by my time honoured strategy of asking someone to help me filter and decode the information I need by explaining simply that I can’t work it out. I have never explained yet that I’m overloaded, or so desperate that I want to throw myself down on the platform. And no it’s not a tantrum, now we’ve got here.
So what happens when you out yourself to a whole network, and an entire community all at once? What happens when every person who works on your project (from your exhibition poster printer to your booklet designer) knows you’re autistic? Every person who visits the OVADA gallery during our show will likely read the poster, which says I’m autistic, including the current Lord Mayor of Oxford.
Next week I will go on BBC Radio Oxford to talk about my project and my autism. I hope that copy about my project and my autism will appear in the Oxford Times next week too.
I have thoroughly outed myself in new and diverse ways. Okay, I’ve been writing about my autism for three years online, but people in my neighbourhood will now look at me anew, and I will soon know what it is I have done in creating #NUNOproject on the most personal of levels. Every person in my professional network will know I am autistic – and this will surely impact my future work in ways that are unknowable to me.
I recognise that in some profound and irreversible way I’ve unmasked myself, and that yet in doing so I’ve hardly faltered, feeling that it is worth it for my community and for the future I want for my children. But it’s not all about altruism and social change.
I’m an autistic person who embraces my disability as identity (not all of us do), and finds the ‘label’ liberating. The more I push through the better my life gets. I only struggle when confronted face to face with people who are patronising, angry, or want to deny my struggles. I chose to paddle away as quickly as possible. I’m too old to spend my time engaged in this kind of nonsense. I’ve spent too much of my life confused and wrong-footed. But I have the luxury of choice because I am a freelance professional, and of an age where the tendency to please others rapidly diminishes.
I feel there is something ineffably powerful in gaining congruence – though I see this as privilege, because so many humans are forced to be other than themselves to fit in. Once tasted, congruence is so good it’s almost addictive.
I remarked the other day that I now no longer think about my autism so very much. It’s not the first thing on my mind when I wake up, and I no longer have to pinch myself. This too is privilege, and a sign that my life is presently aligning with my needs.
A powerful predictor of our resilience lies in the responses to our autism in those around us. I’ve benefited hugely from the love of my family and the bonds formed both online and IRL with my autistic community.
I want more of this for more of us, but I will be telling Arts Council England that our relationships with autism are complicated. We need to build choices about masking into opportunity, and allow for the impact of a lifetime of ableism on an individual to create fluctuations in confidence about unmasking. Unmasking can be wholly situational and should not be treated as a static goal, in my view. We also need to be aware that ableism can make a label out of identity. Finally, I will pose the following question in my evaluation; how ethical is it to encourage artists to unmask for their art?
My future vision, conjured by this blog post, is to create an art project as a sanctuary for artists, as a space for recovery and renewal, without the pressure to perform an identity or assume a label to earn the privilege. Watch this space!
Goodbye for now, but hope to see you at our opening event!
If you can’t make it, we look forward to seeing you online, and you can catch all our content here.
March 17, 2019 § 6 Comments
I’m a little in love with this picture. It features one element of my new installation, which I’m about to show as part of a large group exhibition called Neither Use Nor Ornament or NUNO for short.
My work is called Conversation and it features an audio piece with an excerpt from my play Playa y Toro, (2014)
A bit like a Russian doll, my play contains a play, and it also combines characters and action from my father’s play Tierra Cautiva, which was written in about 1951, with characters from my art blog Barcelona in a Bag. The typewriter you see in the picture is the exact model he used to write his play. Those who follow my work will know that my father was exiled from Spain in 1939 when Franco’s Fascist forces defeated the democratically elected government. 2019 sees the 80th anniversary of the tragic events in which nearly half a million Spaniards fled for their lives across the border to France. My father’s early plays were a response to the continuing dictatorship and the beginnings of the tourist boom.
Since 2013 I’ve been working with my family’s involvement in the Spanish Civil War as a postmemory project. Postmemory in my case meaning that I grew up with an unspoken, yet inherited trauma. The Spanish Civil War was not my own first hand experience, but I lived with all the consequences of it, and it’s effects on my family, which were significant.
I’ve been aware that on a professional level I should be producing work in this year to mark the terrible events of 1939, and yet I’ve fallen largely silent, just when I might be expected to be most vocal. In part NUNO has taken a great deal of my time, but more truthfully I’ve felt emotionally overwhelmed.
For many of my 5-6 years of professional practice dedicated to this work, I’ve attempted to address the silencing of this history in some quarters, and the lack of awareness in others. This year I can’t complain of that. There is a tidal wave of material which is at last coming to light, and I predict swathes of responses to it in years to come. I’m delighted, but I’m also rendered mute.
I’ve had to think through why my response is one of flight.
Working with traumatic memory has consequences, and I’ve often been aware of the need to pace myself over the years. You can’t work close up with this material and not be affected. What I’ve learned in this anniversary year is that it’s incredibly hard when such a tidal wave hits your online networks. I finally realised this when a friend sent me a video the other day which I just couldn’t open. Earlier in February I wept at 6am, as I logged onto FaceBook with my morning coffee and viewed footage of countless Republican Spaniards streaming towards the border. That was my family, my dearest ones. I can’t help myself, I scan the screen searching for them. It’s quite terrible. Any such footage, photographs or mentions have this effect. I relive this moment of flight in my mind, and the deeply painful truths that were hedged as my family gave my sister and I golden summers on the beaches of Barcelona.
I think it’s the type and volume of information which appears randomly at any time of the day which makes me recoil. I spend a lot of time online. Exposure can happen when least expected. When I’m on a specific Spanish Civil War project and researching, I’m in control of the flow. Probably that’s the difference.
So I’ve been working quietly, and am so very grateful to my NUNO group – there’s a sense of safety in numbers and my work nestles within the collective showing to the public. My piece is gentle, but it does probe at the trauma site.
I’ve called this blog Back where I belong, because in the last 24 hours I’ve reconnected with a font of inspiration for my play – a series of recordings made by Federico García Lorca of Canciones Populares Antiguas. They recall a period of intense studio practice in which I was truly connected to this unspoken family history and surround by ghosts. Project management has in many ways disconnected me from this, but on hearing the music on my iPod I’m transported back there.
I’m also back where I belong in terms of my identity, in at last regaining my Spanish nationality. This feels like a pretty spectacular year to have done so.
Once more thank you so much Arts Council England, your funding of my work for NUNO has been a profound award in so many ways.
March 9, 2019 § 2 Comments
This blog post was first published on @an_artblogs
I’m very interested in inclusion. This is probably because I’ve experienced exclusion. I know what’s like to find yourself behind a glass wall looking in.
As an unidentified learning disabled child, I failed the 11+ and watched my sibling sail through the gates of a prestigious independent school. My parents were a teacher (at the same independent school) and an academic at the local university, I felt foolish and left out when each morning they journeyed together in the family car, while I took a long bus ride alone to a pretty rough comprehensive school which has since been razed. It taught me a great deal.
I know what it is to try and to ‘fail’ early in life. Bewildered by an exam I couldn’t decode, I couldn’t know at this time that the system was failing me. I look back now and see the system as failing many. Don’t get me started on education cuts and the news that some schools now have to close on Friday afternoons.
I remember smelling privilege at the independent school’s gates on the odd occasion I found myself there. I looked on and saw confidence and opportunity oozing from the very fabric of the building. I understood that I was an outsider, but could not have articulated it. The world inside this place simply felt intimidating and unreachable. A closed door.
Did I want to be part of this world? I really don’t remember, but I know I felt lesser. I didn’t discover the joys of study until I was 16, but then with my geek fully on I began to motor my way to university. It wasn’t plain sailing. I struggled greatly with my learning and will never forget the powerful knock back from a tutor in my second year at uni, who told me my work lacked the polish of my privately educated contemporaries (of which there were many studying history of art at this time!) Yes, this was 1982 and this conversation really did happen.
Red rag to a bull, I summoned my geek and got a first class degree.
I haven’t yet touched on how undiagnosed autism has impacted on my trajectory, nor the importance of a diagnosis in overcoming barriers. But I’ve written about this extensively on The Other Side.
My story is just one – of exclusion, and of pushing through. Each of the neurodivergent artists on my Arts Council Funded project, Neither Use Nor Ornament, (NUNO) will have their own story. On NUNO we are working to address the impacts of exclusion over a lifetime. It is very deep work indeed, which has required great thought and adaptations along the way.
Working responsively means that NUNO has had to change shape in the making. A fact of which I’m incredibly proud. I’ve observed that the neurotypical template for freelance project work seems to be that we must adapt ourselves to a pre-designed project. In this model the ‘project’s needs’ are paramount. NUNO turns this on its head. Artists needs are my first consideration and if I haven’t got that right I must adapt the project.
This process has taken place throughout and as we get closer to delivering our project I’m looking forward to the richness of the evaluation process.
I’m not blowing my own trumpet. Daily I give thanks to Arts Council England for backing the project so that I could work with 13 incredible artists across neurotypes. It is extraordinarily hard work to project manage, I often have to work against myself as so many tasks fall to me which require heavy duty admin, and that’s just not my forte. Next time can I have a PA please!
But we can’t wait to show you our work – it’s such a rich offer due to the wonderful NUNO artists whose object-based practices we are lucky enough to showcase. Bring it on!
Register FREE for our spring event at our Eventbrite page or just turn up! We’d love to see you.
Press release is on our website https://www.museumforobjectresearch.com/press/
February 20, 2019 § Leave a comment
Image is by Nick Rutter taken from the Arts Desk.
My blog today will be short. I’m about sick and tired of giving my time to @allinarowplay, which has become like the proverbial turd which won’t go down on my Twitter timeline.
Today however bought some relief in the form of Saskia Baron’s incisive “…soapy and shrill pity party” review
There have been other monumental reviews such as Dr Shaun May’s masterclass in reviewing – oh if only @allinarowplay would take the expert consultation offered here.
But it’s no use worrying away at the conundrum as to why @allinarowplay have ignored all expert advice because the clue that they never would was there all along. It just got obscured by that big ugly puppet.
Yes, our rightful focus on puppet Laurence has meant just one thing. We forgot that the toxic fancy never budged, nor did it even wobble or remotely change in hue. Unlike Kibo Productions who at least had the grace to change their marketing images on The Big Things in 2018, there have been no such overtures by Paul Virides’ company.
Keep your eyes on the toxic fancy, my friends. It remains upended and it is still blue and, like the poisoned candy I feared a stranger might feed me when I was a child, it is the stuff of fairytales.
When Saski Baron wrote the following she broke the spell,
“I’ve been around autistic people all my life and no matter how profound their communication impairments might be, I’ve never met one who didn’t know when someone didn’t like them.”
These people have tried to gaslight a community with their everyday ableism but it won’t wash.
The toxic fancy is the tell.