Last week, comedian Chris Rock published an essay in The Hollywood Reporter addressing Hollywood’s race problem. At one point, Rock discusses his college years, when he tried to “create an equivalent to The Harvard Lampoon at Howard University, to give young black comedy writers the same opportunity that white comedy writers had.” The project failed, according to Rock, because “the kids at Howard need money. It’s that simple. Kids at Harvard come from money. They can afford to work at a newspaper and make no money. The kids at Howard are like, ‘Dude, I love comedy, but I’ve got a f—ing tuition I’ve got to pay for here.’ But that was 15 years ago. It might be easier to do it now because of the Internet. I don’t know.”
Rock articulates an essential factor behind the lack of diversity in the entertainment industry: in addition to the basic racial prejudices he discusses, the lack of access to artistic platforms is often rooted in a lack of economic mobility. Rock is correct to point out that before the Internet age, the financial stipulations attached to self-publishing and self-promoting were so high that many creative voices were shut down when the various expenses of life interfered.
The Internet has certainly introduced a new, accessible place for people to build portfolios and self-promote their work. Anyone can run a blog or stream their album on Bandcamp. Promoting shows and events or pitching for freelance work has undeniably become easier. However, the ease of self-promotion and publication offered by the Internet has its economic downsides—in the low expectation of income from your work, and in the value we place on the arts we consume and take for granted.
Recently, a friend of mine shared a single from her band’s recording on Facebook. I had heard their music before, knew I was a fan, and planned to listen to the piece, so I bought the $1 single. Later she texted me and said “Thanks for being our first purchase!” When I expressed that it was the least I could do, she responded, “We really didn’t expect anyone to buy it. Lol.”
Previously, the same friend confided in me that at a bar show with no cover, some of her friends told her they “couldn’t afford” to buy a $10 copy of the recording—a slightly hypocritical statement, considering an average pint at the bar costs approximately the same amount. The assumption that your friends aren’t going to buy your music, because they’ve already streamed it online for free, says something about the value we place on the creative work of our peers in the current age. There isn’t a dollar amount attached to a like or a share. As much as shared enjoyment of your art is the invaluable desired response to creative work, many would argue that a little bit of money as compensation for the gratification you bring people wouldn’t hurt.
Speaking on a panel at the Canadian University Press’s NASH conference a few weeks ago, Toronto-based freelancer Anupa Mistry advised young writers not to tweet their best ideas, as in her experience, people will steal and write those ideas before you can. With this in mind, it is off-putting to consider publishing a piece you care about on a personal blog, or expressing the idea on twitter, if you run the risk of someone else capitalizing on your idea. Plagiarism laws haven’t yet caught up to Twitter, and maybe they eventually will, but at the moment it’s a decidedly grey area in relation to intellectual property.
There’s an overwhelming attitude amongst young creatives that the work you put online isn’t going to get you paid. Which is, I guess, a logical assumption to make—nobody really expects to make money off a personal Twitter account or blog. But the idea that none of your ideas or legitimate artistic work are worth something of value if they go up on the Internet first is undoubtedly harmful to young talents who are considering a career in the arts. With technology constantly evolving, each generation of young artists will have had it “easier” than the last, but the factor of the discourse that remains consistent is that compensation for art is laughable, even in the minds of the creators themselves.
Chris Rock raises an important point in suggesting that it is now easier for disadvantaged people to get exposure, and find their audience, through the Internet. But the fact remains that people have to work and be compensated for that work. The economic valuation we place on people’s work when so much is immediately available doesn’t do a whole lot to help people get paid for their output. While there are success stories resulting from Internet self-promotion—local legend Biebs and his initial YouTube videos come to mind, or the popular comedy show, Broad City, which started as a web series. The question remains, however, as to what stories are lost out of fear of plagiarism, or lack of time available to commit towards your artistic pursuits when nobody is going to buy it anyway. In the 15 years since Chris Rock’s failed Howard Lampoon experiment, college kids, especially from disadvantaged economic and racial backgrounds, still have bills to pay.
All artists would agree that they love what they do; that is why so many people put time and energy into their craft for free. But as Chris Rock argues in his piece, love doesn’t always create opportunity, and neither does diversity create the stage.
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