Rewind: Old Haunts
In an attempt to consolidate the online presence that I have haphazardly scattered across the nets and tubes since last I had a website, I'm going to republish a few things from time to time. The following is an article I wrote for Dundee University's Review of The Arts (DURA) in the wake of the closure of the Byre Theatre of St. Andrews. In the time since, the theatre's fate lies in the hands of St. Andrews University, which I will no doubt return to in another post.
CLOSING THE BYRE THEATRE
1st February 2013
The dust is setting around The Byre Theatre after its sudden liquidation
last month, and a passionate and dedicated community in St Andrews can,
at the very least, congratulate themselves on bringing the battle for
its future to national attention.
With The Byre about to enter its 80th year, the livelihoods of its tireless workforce had seemed largely secure: a move to join Fife Cultural Trust
(FCT), which would align The Byre’s endeavours with those of other Fife
cultural venues, promised a future for a venue which had suffered in
the recent and significant cutbacks
by Creative Scotland and by Fife Council. However, once the extent of
The Byre’s swelling debts became apparent, FCT backed down from the
agreement because of the fear that taking on such debt might spell
disaster for the Trust itself.
Whilst the worth of the theatre was apparent to Fife Council, they
apparently felt unable to maintain the level of funding afforded to The
Byre given the recent years of recession and financial restraints
Nevertheless, their support had indicated their appreciation for the
venue’s ability to host international events, most notably the poetry
festival, “StAnza”, and to present the facets of St Andrews culture that exist beyond golf.
Significant changes to Arts sector funding by Creative Scotland
provoked wide-spread condemnation of the organisation’s shoddy treatment
to so many of Scotland’s promising talents. The removal of flexible
two-year funding, which The Byre Theatre had previously enjoyed, to be
replaced by single-project based funding, meant a shift from “modest security to complete insecurity“
for many organisations, thereby thwarting the ability of companies to
consider long-term strategies. The anger over the harm done to Scottish
Arts eventually led to the resignation of Andrew Dixon and Venu Dhupa, two senior members of the funding body.
The renewed interest being shown by Creative Scotland, in helping
salvage the theatre from its closure, has sparked anger and
disillusionment amongst former employees of The Byre, as the previous
relationship between the organisations is seemingly ‘swept under the carpet’.
As the theatre’s situation is pushed to the forefront of a very
political argument, it must be remembered that The Byre is but one of
the many victims of the funding shake-up, and that while St Andrews
dreams of seeing its phoenix rise, this renewed collaboration must only
be a forward move.
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| The Byre Theatre |
There are lessons to be learned from this unfortunate situation, and it is to the credit of the local community that these can be so fully explored. Given that news of the company’s history of debt, accrued since the opening of the new building, has only now come to light, there is a palpable need for better financial transparency. Had this been in place, the community would have been alerted to these difficulties much sooner. Perhaps too, Sean Connery, as Patron of the theatre, could have lent his voice to the campaign two years ago when the flexible funding was withdrawn. Hindsight, though, is a wondrous thing. But whatever the reasons, and wherever the blame, twenty-five people lost their jobs, and this in an area, and at a time, when alternative opportunities are few.
The Byre Theatre, as an institution, will surely rise again, but this may not be for some time. With further cuts to FCT’s own budget, the Adam Smith Theatre in Kirkcaldy will also be forced to face tough choices. At least, the community of St Andrews has shown that, with sufficient resolve, local people have the tools to raise a national commotion.
Unprescribed
There's no right or wrong way to 'get' art of any sort, sure. Sometimes though, someone will explain their reaction to a particular piece, and I wish that I could have even a hint of the intensity of what they felt. It's always intriguing, if nothing else, but there are occasions where I'll struggle to feel excitement in the way so many around me seem to experience. I wonder how integral the environment we enjoy it in affects that work. Radio and music, and television to some degree, need to expect a versatility in where it's going to be received. To see something live, whether in a gallery or the dark room of the cinema or auditorium, that is an inherent quality of the respective art form.
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| A Highland Funeral, James Guthrie 1882 |
I'm reminded of a discussion with Mark Brown, theatre critic for the Sunday Herald and above all, a champion of Howard Barker. I was fortunate to pick his brains several times while studying at Dundee, and I'll admit that I found his solid opinionating entirely infectious. Sometimes my stubborness surprises even myself. I rallied the point that theatre was a force for social catharsis, and the experience as an audience member was a unifying one, that despite our unique standpoints, a story will connect with us through themes that are universally recogniseable. The elements that individuate us is a mimetic reaction - learning through the performance of example - which I believe is unachievable without striving to show how that somebody on stage could be, well, anybody.
It's not necessarily the best idea to take sides with Aristotle when you're with a Barker enthusiast; for an example, you will want to read his twenty-one asides on theatre criticism. My favourites being:
- The demand that the “critic reflect the collective view of the audience” nauseates.
- When he asserts the “equal value” of all genres, the critic slits his own throat with a pen.
However, I am prone to appreciating a guiding path, and I have unfortunately found myself effectively queuing my way through an exhibit, ticking each bit off as I go. I crave a narrative; I am thrilled by abstract narratives that, somehow, unconciously drive me through the experience. When art forces me to make up my own mind, I am inevitably locked into uncertainty. Typing this, I am struck by my own insecurity, that perhaps if I simply assume I empathise with the absent artist entirely, I might respond more completely.
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| Killing Time, Graham Eatough/ Graham Fagan, DCA 2006 |
