"Making a living in the arts, though, creates so many jobs for other people"
About this Quote
There’s a sly practicality tucked inside Maureen Forrester’s line, the kind performers learn to deploy after the tenth time someone treats “artist” as a hobby with better lighting. “Making a living in the arts” isn’t framed as romantic destiny; it’s framed as work. Then she pivots to the part that’s usually invisible: the arts aren’t just self-expression, they’re an employment engine. Not metaphorically. Literally.
The intent feels defensive in the most strategic way. Forrester, a world-class contralto who built a career when classical music still carried establishment prestige but artists (especially women) were often expected to be grateful rather than paid, is answering a familiar cultural accusation: that arts funding is indulgence, that full-time artistry is selfish, that the “real economy” starts somewhere else. Her counter is disarmingly managerial: one singer’s paycheck ripples outward to accompanists, stagehands, costume makers, ushers, instrument techs, venue staff, publicists, printers, teachers, agents, administrators. Even the so-called “solo” artist is a small company.
The subtext is also about dignity. By emphasizing “jobs for other people,” she reframes artistic success as social contribution, not personal vanity. It’s a way of translating cultural value into the language policymakers and skeptics claim to respect: employment, infrastructure, livelihoods. The line works because it drags the arts out of the sentimental corner and into the ledger book, without surrendering the art itself. It’s not an apology for wanting to sing. It’s a reminder that when society funds art, it’s underwriting a whole ecosystem of skilled labor.
The intent feels defensive in the most strategic way. Forrester, a world-class contralto who built a career when classical music still carried establishment prestige but artists (especially women) were often expected to be grateful rather than paid, is answering a familiar cultural accusation: that arts funding is indulgence, that full-time artistry is selfish, that the “real economy” starts somewhere else. Her counter is disarmingly managerial: one singer’s paycheck ripples outward to accompanists, stagehands, costume makers, ushers, instrument techs, venue staff, publicists, printers, teachers, agents, administrators. Even the so-called “solo” artist is a small company.
The subtext is also about dignity. By emphasizing “jobs for other people,” she reframes artistic success as social contribution, not personal vanity. It’s a way of translating cultural value into the language policymakers and skeptics claim to respect: employment, infrastructure, livelihoods. The line works because it drags the arts out of the sentimental corner and into the ledger book, without surrendering the art itself. It’s not an apology for wanting to sing. It’s a reminder that when society funds art, it’s underwriting a whole ecosystem of skilled labor.
Quote Details
| Topic | Art |
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