Poverty and the Arts

By DON ROLLINS

I was fresh from the Appalachian foothills when the grimy Greyhound finally chugged into the station. Outside, San Francisco circa June 1982 was already morphing into the bastion of privilege it’s since become; but to my backwoods mind, it might as well have been the Summer of Love.

Not exactly flush with money, my week in The City was spent in a safe if not plush downtown hotel. But on Day Two I fell in with a couple other hill country refugee-musicians, busking with them in the parks — a guest performer, constantly being introduced to others in their underground community of poor but gifted painters, actors, poets, songwriters, dancers, potters, writers, comedians and graffitists.

I soon learned this network of support was diverse in every way, united only by a haunting urge to create something new, and their shared experience of poverty. (More than one heady conversation began with cubism versus abstractism, then ended with a tearful appeal for food money and a bed for the night.)

From Van Gogh to Bessie Smith to today’s slam poets, this same experience of poverty has informed some of the most remarkable artistry ever captured on a palette, recording or stage. But while those works may hang in respectable galleries or be “discovered” in Ken Burns documentaries, they were born of deep deprivation and hardship few admirers have ever known.

No doubt contributing to this gap is the long-standing failure of the privileged to appreciate the place of the arts in the lives of many persons in poverty. In a powerful first-person reflection posted on talkpoverty.org, (April 18, 2016) freelance writer Alison Stine describes why she buys paints when she and her son are barely getting by: “Why is it important to have art even in poverty? Why is it important to make it? Why spend time trying to make things look nice? ...

“One of my jobs as a poor mother is to make things, to stretch the laundry detergent with water, to fit the screws back in the car door with wire. What is living in poverty if not constantly being creative? Continually making it work? Making the unbearable, bearable. Making the money last. Making the unlivable not just livable, but survivable.”

Stine’s article captures the often spiritual interplay between poverty and creativity, voiding stereotypes depicting those without wealth and status as too ignorant to be classified as true artists: terms such as “folk art” and “crafts” are often benignly applied by those trained to different standards, yet such terms discount instances of pure imagination set against the grind of constant poverty.

There’s good news: as of late, nonprofits (often created and run by artists living in poverty) are surfacing to make this connection. Asheville (N.C.) Poverty Initiative recently held a concert/fundraiser showcasing local musicians struggling to make ends meet.

By way of visual and other artists, Nashville-based Poverty and the Arts administers programs for those living without shelter, providing a platform for their works as a means of economic justice.

Alison Stine’s article concludes with a benediction that in the end I’m sure would resonate with the good folk out in San Francisco circa 1982. Something about the urge to create despite it all:

“Yes, the porch is splintered, and it doesn’t belong to us, and we don’t own the land—we don’t own any land, not yet—but the paint is bright, the colors are true, and my son smiles.”

Don Rollins is a Unitarian Universalist minister living in Hendersonville, N.C. Email donaldlrollins@gmail.com.

From The Progressive Populist, April 1, 2020

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