What does it mean to be a “working class composer” in Australia?

BY STEPHANIE ESLAKE

Many artists will seek support for their creative projects. But rarely will you find an opportunity based around the concept of class. After all, how does one even begin to define class in Australia?

If we focus entirely on income, we know the majority of local artists run on the smell of an oily rag: in May, Creative Australia’s Artists at Work report revealed that about half of the country’s professional artists bring home less than $10,000 a year from their work. They supplement their income with other jobs, the combined total of which remains 26 per cent lower than the average Aussie worker’s wage. Many artists are using their creative skills in non-arts roles.

Adelaide-based multidisciplinary artist Constantine (Kosta) Stefanou notices the “aesthetics of the traditional working class” are often associated with the local tradie. Their income may barely hit minimum wage, or it may far exceed the salary of the average worker – a contradiction that has inspired academic papers on the concept of the “cashed-up bogan”. In Australia, class may refer to culture and socioeconomic status alike: it’s why Cate Blanchett claimed to be “middle class” with a net worth of A$140 million.

The idea of class is complicated. So when Kosta reached out to tell us about his new residency for “working-class composers”, it’s a can of worms we had to open. Kosta (pictured below) works in the arts and sciences, and is the director of MUD:Improvisation and Extended Domains.

MUD’s Composer-in-Residence Pilot Program is described as addressing the “significant underrepresentation of working-class composers in the Australian new music scene, advocating for the methods and stories of marginalised creators” and showcasing perspectives that can “redress historical inequalities”.

The program is supported by the City of Norwood Payneham and St Peters in partnership with Soundstream. The first composer to participate is Joseph Franklin. “Who better to work with to figure out the complexities of asserting such a program into the classical, new music landscape?” Kosta says.

In this interview, Kosta tells us what he thinks it means to be a working-class composer in Australia, and why he has launched a new program designed to give opportunities tailored to this demographic.

Kosta, thanks for chatting about your MUD program. How do you define “working class”, and what does this phrase means to you?

There is a really broad definition which is: a person who must trade their labour in order to provision themselves and their family. So having substantial assets, trust funds, things like that would forfeit one’s membership to the working class, potentially. However, I do think it is more complicated, especially in such a precarious industry where artists are some of the lowest-paid workers in the country.

It can be a doozy to define working class in Australia as the aesthetics of the traditional working class — i.e the tradesperson — don’t quite fit with the income bracket that such careers afford now. The two or three investment home-owning tradesmen might not have the habitus — the norms and values of the arts social group — but they do have the means to buy their talented child a $20,000 instrument to produce the very best sound, receive the best tuition, and so on.

If I had ample money, time, and resources, class might not even be a consideration in my practice. However, I need to work relationally and collaboratively, essentially building social debt as a means of supporting myself and my community.

This new program is inherently process oriented, which I believe reflects many of the conditions of the working class.

It’s interesting that your program gives opportunities to working-class composers, because there are many arts initiatives designed for underrepresented or marginalised groups but rarely do we hear of opportunities for this particular group. Why was this an initiative you wanted to launch with MUD?

Firstly, thanks for acknowledging the lack of focus on class within the arts sector. I love the image of a person who has come from a non-musical working class family, being in the room with a chamber ensemble, rehearsing their music. The statistical unlikeliness of that; the rich kids playing the poor kids music, right? It’s great! I am unfairly generalising here; performers are definitely made up of people from diverse class positions.

I think if you asked your average queer or BIPOC artist if they believed that the representation of their identity in the arts was sufficient to change the industry or society, they would probably say, ‘No, my inclusion does slightly alter the status quo, but without challenging classism, my identity will ultimately be appropriated in service of mindless growth, which excludes incredible and challenging art works because they will disturb the ontological frame of the wealthy class’.

Despite more and more inclusion of different identities, an artist’s working conditions do not seem to have changed much. The avoidance of class struggle in the arts and beyond relegates much of our diversity and inclusion metrics to mere spectacle; a pat on the back for wealthy society: ‘Oh, look how many more diverse people are in the gallery’. Meanwhile, arts and educational institutions directly or indirectly receive large sums from compromised companies, boards, etc. who are exploiting and killing people in the Middle East and beyond. Identity without class politics permits such deeply disturbing contradictions.

“Working class” is a term that has deep-rooted associations with both Australian culture and socioeconomic status — and they’re not always connected. How did you select your first composer-in-residence based on class? For instance, did your composer-in-residence self-identify as working class, or was it more the type of selection process you’d find in a funding opportunity that provides support based on income thresholds? How did you arrive at your selection process?

Joseph Franklin (below) is an old friend that comes from working class roots in mid-Gippsland, Gunaikurnai country — coal-mining and dairy landscapes. I created this initial pilot program with him in mind, as a test subject of sorts. His practice as a bassist/composer is deeply tied to his experience as a working class composer and to his working class family. So who better to work with to figure out the complexities of asserting such a program into the classical, new music landscape?

With his help, a lot of the definitions, the criteria, and processes will be clearly established before we properly launch the program in 2025.

We did not have applications for this initial pilot program. With the small funding support that we received, it means a lot of favours, and everyone is investing their time in the good that this program can do, so that means leaning on your friends. So Joseph, [cellist] David Moran, the Ern Malley bar, and Soundstream, everyone is contributing a lot of in-kind support to make sure this program has the best chance of taking off.

The concept of this program seems to project the antithesis of a culture of “elitism” in music. How do you feel about the idea of elitism in classical or art music, and how do you think programs like yours interact with this concept?

This program interacts with that elitism in the way that movies and TV shows like Triangle of Sadness or The White Lotus do, provoking an almost erotic response from the elites: ‘Yes, tell me how out of touch I am, how bad we are’ [laughs]. The way I see it, elitism emerges from a deeply sick society of which we are seeing the horrific effects presently — geopolitically and ecologically.

I have no illusions that a program such as this will actually change the elitism in this country. That can only happen from uniting the working and middle classes, and altering very fundamental systemic processes in our society, national and globally.

I work in the arts, and so this is where I find my struggle.

So what opportunities are you offering through this residency?

For the composer, time to write — albeit on the short side of composing time — and work with a great cellist.

For the public, a chance to have a beer with a working composer and come along to the workshop, hopefully dispelling the humanist myth of the genius, and then a gig to close it off with a zine publication.

I also love the way the people at Ern Malley have supported the idea, opening up the front bar space for a composer, turning a pub into a studio, the reversal of capitalist enclosures, the sharing of the commons, and in them celebrating.

What can we expect from the public performance?

David Moran will be performing the work in development. Joseph has recently released a solo bass album, so I hope he will perform some of that repertoire. Gabriella Smart from Soundstream will also be joining us, performing on the Electric Cristal, and we might see some duo or trio improvisations as well.

We have kindly requested Paul Gallasch at Ern Malley to prepare some local mussels for the evening. He has to do it now [laughs]!

Where would you like to take this program in future?

I hope that this can inspire more initiatives for working class artists who are often compelled to leave Adelaide to seek out more secure arts employment in the other cities. It would be great to see more people from all classes engaging with the venues, performers, and artists in Adelaide.

I’m very confident that this initial program will be great evidence of merit to state and federal funding bodies, and hopefully we will be launching three individual month-long residencies in Adelaide in 2025, open to national applications.