The creative and cultural scene in South Africa is one that is characterised by stark contrasts. It’s a world in which absolute opulence and bottom-row levels of poverty exist side by side. One minute we’re on covers of glossy magazines in borrowed high-price-tag rags and the next we’re on front pages of newspapers because we have fallen on hard times.
My accountant of many years describes the income realities of people in the arts as “a life of feast and famine”. She’s correct. When we get highs there are no ceilings and when we fall we hit the basement really hard. In between there are those who never get to taste the decent side of this picture. They remain at the bottom of the scale, perpetually underpaid and exploited with very little hope of a better scenario.
Their faces are familiar, their voices back the songs of our favourite big stars, their names appear at the end of top performing television shows and they remain the forgotten players in this fabulous game.
At some point in my world of work, I was part of a technical committee that was tasked with seeking answers to the long-standing question of social security for artists. It was in these discussions that I began to get alarmed by the fact that any solution that the powers that be have been working on has always been about helping the famous and not the entire collective.
I often take time to explain to people outside the industry who are responsible for creating systems and solutions for the arts that this is not one big pot but rather a long table of varying dishes. This is partly why I prefer to speak of creative industries practitioners instead of artists only.
Any solutions for the industry must cover the person in the spotlight as well as those that prepare that spotlight for them. The many non-celebrity jobs in the arts need some form of protection too. The chorus-line performers are artists too. So are backing vocalists and session musicians.
There are artists that make a living out of voice-over work and nothing else. There are also those that live on dance from gig to gig. Then you get crew and production support staff. All of them form a greater part of this big and exciting world of showbiz. I remember a statement from a young woman who spoke at the Musicians Indaba that was held at the Soweto Theatre last spring, she was highlighting the fact that exploitation in the arts does not only affect the performers.
She wanted the government to look into the issue of entertainment companies’ staff who often work without contracts, unemployment insurance and workman’s compensation. She was concerned that as we were deliberating on issues of social security for the creative sector, the focus was mainly on the people with big names while the back-room workers were not considered.
I don’t have any magic solutions to offer on legacy protection for the arts. What I do know is that an environment of fairness in which rates and working conditions are standardised will offer practitioners the stability they need to plan better. When we speak of the creative arts being an income generator and job creator, we are not only referring to the artistic jobs.
And even in reference to the artistic work, we should be mindful not to consider only the well known.
The musician has session singers, dancers, videographers, songwriters, stylists, roadies, the list goes on and on. The top actor works with a whole team of unseen people without whom they’d never make it to our screens. The theatre and dance world has a long list of behind-the-scenes job titles that hardly get a mention when those that must come with intervention strategies sit around a table. It surprised me when I first heard this, but our government is still grappling with a definition of who the artist is in order to find income smoothing solutions for this sector.
They are still considering some sort of feasibility study on the industry in order to start looking at solutions. They don’t know who we are or what it is exactly that we do. How are they going to find solutions for us?
In the meantime, here is the reality on the ground. Thando, the wardrobe assistant on your favourite soapie, does not have medical aid or UIF. Matome, the arts department guy on that film you raved about last year has not had a new gig since last year due to an on-set injury. Fifi, that young researcher that was excited about her first big gig on a 13-episode actuality series just a year ago, has had to move back to her rural home because she never got paid. She was too afraid to expose the producers in question.
These may sound like made-up cases but the stark reality is that they represent many in the sector. These are industry workers that live a freelance life of no guarantees.
They cannot speak up against any unfair workplace practice because theirs is an unorganised sector. They do not have much to rely on as those in authority find them easy to replace. They do not have massive social media following. They are conveniently invisible. Who then must fight for them?
I, like many, remain concerned about what happens to our legends long after their glory days. I get hurt when I hear of forgotten heroes and stars who are battling to make ends meet. I get upset when senior talent gets cast aside by young executives who have not even bothered to do a background check on who these legends are. I am further saddened by the knowledge that many of us in the arts continue to die as paupers. I’m also very aware that this reality is the black artist’s undeniable reality most.
I wonder if those that sit on any of the powerful boards and councils that control our industry look at the full picture. I wonder if they realise that it takes more than the highly paid stars to keep the industry shining bright. If they consider the rest of the credit roll, the album sleeve and the theatre show programme credits at all when they brainstorm for strategies to improve the working environment of the arts practitioner.
Ours is a broad industry, a complex tapestry of sectors with multiple participants. All of them matter, from the very visible to the not so famous. We all matter. We all count.
* Masebe is an award-winning actor, a creator and producer of television and film content. She is the author of The Heart Knows.