Visual art has the category of Outsider Art, by which work created on or beyond the boundaries of ‘official’ culture has been recognised, responded to, respected. Popular music understands and embraces this idea too, while its live stage has always celebrated the natural vocal, physical and temperamental idiosyncracies of rock’s most interesting frontmen and women. But when it comes to theatre and dance, there seems to be a dominant tendency to tutor learning disabled artists in convention rather than encouraging them to shape their own work – and revel in the often brilliantly irregular results.
Significantly, companies often describe themselves as theatre or dance projects ‘for’ people with learning disabilities, rather than ‘with’ or ‘by’. Speaking later in the day, Ellie Stout of Arts Council England made a crucial bid for a more equal relationship between learning disabled and non-learning disabled artists in their work together. “It’s not about one mentoring the other on what’s right,” she said, “it’s about the two coming together”.
As a mainstream arts critic, invited to Creative Minds to speak about reviewing learning disabled work, I have an agenda. I see a lot of work. I see a lot of dull, derivative, lifeless work made from the same privileged perspective. I want to be challenged by art that has a different voice and a creative edge. I want ‘truth’ at all costs – and those costs may be too high for many.
Literally too high, for the countless ignored or under-funded companies who underpin the sector, and too high in personal stakes for some individual artists. How hard it must be to be that honest, and to make yourself that vulnerable, in front of an audience – especially if you’ve always been made to feel you have something to prove. Like all developing artists, learning disabled performers need the opportunities to experiment and the freedom to fail until they find their true artistic voice and form.
But in Ipwish I got a timely reminder that, just as there are as many ways of seeing the world and making art as there are people, there are as many different ways of responding to art, too. A learning disabled visual artist in the audience had been loudly enjoying the work throughout the day. But he became especially vocal during Razed Roof Theatre’s performance, when a learning disabled actor cast as a lively character dressed in a child’s frock and bonnet was admonished by her stage mother.
The audience member, whose own companion had been gently hushing him all day, was clearly delighted. “Dorothy that’s very, very naughty!” he joined in, and continued until the lights went down. True to his own experience and tickling his sense of humour, the scene had really spoken to him.
Creative Minds Ipswich wasn’t a one-off. This was the third in a series of conferences about learning disabled arts, with a fourth sketched in for a format shakeup in 2017. For the sake of the performing arts world in general, I hope the movement continues to gain momentum – and that the next gathering can find a way to embrace our different ways of both making and engaging with art.
To read the review of Creative Minds South East conference (March 2014) click here. To read the review of Creative Minds South West Conference (October 2014) click here.
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