How Cashflow Issues are Killing Queer Identity
This story was originally published 20/11/2019
Queer art is an important part of how we express queer identity in New Zealand and across the world — whether it’s the Pride Festival, music, literature or gay theatre, queer people know they need to tell their own stories — to each other and to non queer audiences alike.
But what happens when that art is choked by funding issues which mean artists are struggling to pay their performers, develop new works or even take acclaimed shows to the international stages of Edinburgh Fringe?
As it happens, Creative New Zealand doesn’t offer a dedicated fund to help with queer expression. Regardless of your ethnic identity, your LGBT+ identity is treated as one of another e.g. queer applicants apply under the General Art fund or for Maori or Pacifika grants.
We put this to Creative New Zealand and were sent back a statement that referred us to the General Arts Fund and provided a short list of queer artists or organisations that have received funding. We also spoke to two people that produce and star in their own performances about how access to funding can impact their work.
Funding Queer Art
Jeremy Hinman of Blackboard Theatre Company and playwright, performer and producer Joanna Pearce have lead successful productions in the queer theatre scene (both for queer and non-queer audiences) but say that one of the biggest challenges is being able to source funding for specifically queer theatre — theatre made by and for queer people.
Pearce’s achievements include being invited to perform her show People Like Us in London and at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Hinman and his team have led sold out performances across Christchurch Pride.
Both say that there isn’t enough support for queer theatre.
“If you look at the funding from Creative New Zealand, there are whole categories for Maori and Pacific Island and Asian art but certainly not for queer art or for Pakeha art.” Pearce says. “You are one of another…that’s my biggest gripe, in actual fact. I get enormous pleasure in not doing out and out gay art for gay people. There are a few people that will do that but the market is limited. My whole interest is saying, well, I’m a person, and I happen to be a transgender woman and yes, I like men now and that makes me homosexual, I suppose, in some way but not really because I’m legally a woman.”
Hinman agrees that finding the right kind of funding is a challenge.
“For us in particular, we’ve never received funding from Creative New Zealand or any other institution, actually.” He says. “We were aware of that possibility when we created the company and we didn’t want to rely on someone else do it but funding is hard. It’s really, really hard. My perception, which is purely my opinion, is that a lot of funding goes into cultural diversity and a lot of applications are geared toward sharing our Pacifika and Indigenous stories, which absolutely are incredibly vital.
“I don’t see yet that we have designated funds to support queer identity or queer theatre. We have these good initiatives like Pride and having Basement and Q Theatre working with Pride, which takes a lot of risk away from an artist that wants to create something for the first time or present work for the first time. Unfortunately, if you’re doing it outside of the festival or an institution that will automatically support you, it’s really hard to fund a project or even to begin to entertain to do a project.”
We tried to put these concerns to Creative New Zealand but there was no one that was available for interview. A spokesperson did return this statement:
“In terms of your query regarding funding towards LGBT theatre and general funding, while we don’t have a specific fund focused towards the LGBTQi [sic] community, our general Arts Grants rounds are open to any and all projects that promote and support a driverse range of arts.”
The statement goes onto say that while there are grants for Maori arts and Pacifika arts, Creative New Zealand “[doesn’t] ask for artists to disclose their sexual orientation, we cannot conclusively state or have accurate data around the number of LGBTQi artists that we have supported through funding, however there are a few organisations who have commissioned or worked with the LGBTQi community.”
But for Hinman and Pearce, having to draw from the same fund as everyone else is part of the problem. Queer art competes with every other art submission in the General Art fund — there is no publicly accessible funding that works towards creating and building queer identity. The businesses that do get involved — like Q Theatre and Basement Theatre — are privately owned and manage the risk (according to Creative New Zealand, both Basement Theatre and Q Theatre have received funding).
“When companies who are the ones receiving the funding right now use it to represent queer identity as well as culturally diverse identity, its going to start putting that in front of the people that control big funds, the government funding and things like that.” Hinman tells me down the phone.
For Pearce, the difference between getting funding and not getting funding can be the difference between tens of thousands of dollars and the opportunities of a life time.
“It’s pathetic…I’ve got a letter of acceptance to take this show to London. To take it to London and to Edinburgh. I go to these conferences because you’ll meet one or two people a year who are really key to your endeavour. That’s how I met Clive Little…When I spoke to him, he said this will go really well with this festival that we have in London. We’re going to hopefully do it, we’ve sent it off but Creative New Zealand is being mean about money.”
What Happens Next?
Hinman and Blackboard have been looking at overseas models for funding, including lifting an idea from Broadway that requires more bums on seats than financial investment from funders.
“We do an annual fundraiser every year called He Said, She Said, which is based on Broadway fundraisers they have in the States and Australia, where all the artists gender-bend the songs they’re performing.” Hinman said. “They take well known songs from musical theatre and sing songs from the opposite gender, which more often than not has some interesting outcomes…Often a song written for the burly manly man gets sung by a female about another female.”
Pearce has funded the majority of her shows — including the most recent People Like Us — which ran at a 50 per cent loss.
“People Like Us cost seventy grand and I went down the tubes for about forty. Wouldn’t have not done it. Again, I’ve funded this one, not quite to such a dramatic effect but still 50 percent loss. The funding agencies, I think, pay a bit of lip service…I don’t make a cent.”
No matter how you cut it, there is no profit in either of these ventures. Hinman works full time as well as developing shows for Blackboard and Pearce is relying on funding and grants to help take her productions overseas and continue them in New Zealand (“I just want to be able to pay my actors!” Pearce says, exasperated).
But they both agree on thing: that if funding isn’t coming from government agencies or independent investors, audiences need to start showing up, and not only the matriarchs of Remuera, as Pearce puts it, but younger queer and straight audiences too.
