[Culture Op-Ed] Should the State Support the Basic Arts Because They Underpin the Cultural Industry?

In the 2020 government budget and fund management plan approved by the State Council last August, the Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism budget exceeded 6 trillion won for the first time ever. That was an increase of 552.5 billion won, or about 9.3%, from 2019. But among the labels attached to that expanded budget, one unusual term stands out: “basic arts.”

The budget allocated under the heading “creating a creative environment for basic arts” more than doubled from the previous year. Looking at the details, first, the number of recipients eligible for the “artist creative preparation fund” (3 million won per person annually) more than doubled to 12,000. Loans for living stabilization funds, which had been piloted this year with a target of 1,170 recipients, were also expanded to 2,370 people, again more than doubling. Housing finance products for jeonse and monthly rent, including creative spaces, will likewise raise the loan ceiling exclusively for basic artists from 40 million won to 100 million won. All of these budgets were compiled at more than twice the previous year’s scale under the unfamiliar term “basic arts.”

So what exactly does “basic arts” refer to? In fact, it is simple. And the term appeared much earlier than one might think. A passage announcing its birth appears in University Art Education and 21st Century Society, published in 2004 by the University Art Association.

“In this reality, it is only natural that fine arts would shrink. Accordingly, last April, genres that had been classified as fine arts—literature, visual art, music, theater, dance, traditional arts, and so on—discarded the term ‘fine arts’ and unified around the term ‘basic arts,’ even launching the ‘Basic Arts Solidarity’ with the aim of reviving basic arts.”

In other words, it was simply a replacement for the commonly used term “fine arts.” A review of various media reports suggests that around 2012–2013, the practice of calling fine arts “basic arts” had become established. It took about that long for the “strategy” first advocated in 2004 to take hold. So why did they try to replace it with “basic arts” in the first place? This is the important part. Let’s look at it one by one.

The original frame of “fine arts” itself was hard to accept

First, let us look at what “fine arts” actually referred to—the term that was effectively the same as “basic arts” but was strategically abandoned. As in the University Art Association publication quoted above, the genres generally included under fine arts are literature, visual art, music, theater, dance, traditional arts, and the like. Of course, “literature as fine art” does not include something like Harry Potter, and “music as fine art” does not include BTS.

That “fine arts” is translated into English as Fine Art. If the Korean term literally meant “pure art,” one would naturally render it as Pure Art, but Pure Art actually refers to abstract art. Yet in the English-speaking world, Fine Art is also somewhat removed from the Korean concept above. In practice, it means something closer to “high art.” This is easy to understand if one considers that the term fine dining, now commonly used amid the recent food boom, means not “pure dining” but “high-end dining.”

In the English-speaking world, the opposing concept to Fine Art is Applied Art, or “applied art.” It is nothing special—simply a term used for crafts or decorative arts with practical purposes. In modern times, that same concept has largely been settled under terms like “design” and “designer.” Fine Art was merely a concept used to emphasize that it was different from “those things.” What is more, the term Fine Art today is not confined by genre boundaries in the way Korean “fine arts” is. It includes film, and it includes forms of contemporary music.

So what exactly is the Korean concept of “fine arts,” which is translated as Fine Art but has little to do with actual Fine Art? Strictly speaking, it refers to forms of art that are not mainstream in the market “at present.” One might call them “non-popular events”—or rather, “non-popular genres or formats.” Unpopular art, or perhaps classical art. That is all. Of course, those genres too were once, in their own day, highly successful items like Harry Potter or BTS today. That is simply how the world changes.

But how did “high art” end up becoming “pure art”? The answer, if one knows the background, is childish. It was to ignore the reality that those genres had naturally been weeded out by the market as times changed, and instead secure the justification that they “must be maintained regardless of the market.” These things are pure. Then what is the opposite—not pure? Things that work in the market, things adapted to capitalism, things that “sell.” In that sense, the term “fine arts” was created by relying on anti-capitalist dogma, as a mechanism set up in opposition to capitalism.

And its real purpose was to entrench the idea that, since these genres (or forms) had rebelled against ways of surviving within the capitalist system, they should not compete in the market but instead be supported through public means, or sustained by capitalists in effect through taxes. The impure is bad and the pure is good, so if the pure disappears and only the impure survives, then that is not “social justice.” In short, a mythical opposition between good and evil was imposed.

Then what about “basic arts”? It is nothing more than a stopgap frame that emerged once the line of thinking shouted by “fine arts” no longer worked. The era in which one could protest that applying market logic to art was itself vulgar and sordid, while extolling art-centered purity, has already passed. In other words, once the true nature of “fine arts” was exposed as “nothing more than an unpopular category,” the strategy changed from that point on.

“Basic arts” is merely a frame that strengthens the justification for public support once attached to “fine arts”

“Basic.” In fact, it is quite a powerful concept. What it means is this: literature, visual art, music, theater, dance, traditional arts, and the like are said to form the “foundation” of genres such as film and K-pop that are thriving in the market today—in other words, genres that have naturally become mainstream as times and circumstances changed.

More precisely, the argument is that those unpopular genres are the “foundation” that gave rise to today’s successful genres, and therefore there is clearly a “stake” belonging to the unpopular genres in the success of current popular genres. Therefore, support from public funds is only natural; moreover, if such support is not provided, then the films and K-pop that people are now so proud of will soon collapse, and Parasite and BTS will no longer emerge in the future. Indeed, such claims are openly made here and there.

“Actor Cheolmin Park, who says ‘theater is a basic art,’ stated, ‘If film and broadcasting have entered the realm of industry, theater has not. But only when the foundation is solid can the arts as a whole develop. I hope policy will support the gaps in basic arts that industry cannot fill.’ He added, ‘It is not that nothing exists at present, but I hope it can be implemented in a more realistic, concrete, and detailed way.’” (From the Ajunews article of June 23, 2015, “Cheolmin Park, on the deaths of Woonha Kim and Youngjin Pan: ‘I hope interest in and policy support for basic arts will increase’”)

Naturally, this does not hold up. Korean theater was not at such a world-class level of excellence and prestige that Korean film went on to sweep prizes at major international film festivals because of it. Nor is that why Korean TV dramas rapidly increased their overseas export performance. As an idea, the notion of being a foundation is not itself strange, but once one moves into commercialized genres, it becomes an entirely different story. Theater or literature is no longer the foundation of film. From the level of educational curricula alone, each field now stands on its own. There are separate departments of practical music and separate departments of screenwriting. There are even separate majors in set design for film.

And the idea that only by fostering basic arts can one revive popular arts also does not fit the reality of the cultural industry, which is moving through stages of industrialization, specialization, and globalization. One can see this from K-pop alone. Much of the music itself is already created by overseas composers, such as those in Northern Europe. Choreography is commissioned from choreographers around the world, including the United States and Japan. The same is true of music videos and costumes. Korea merely plays the role of a headquarters that “packages” and “markets” all of this. That is what is called K-pop. TV dramas, too, are increasingly following a similar path through international co-productions, and soon films and other genres will do the same.

Then does this mean even that “headquarters” role cannot function properly without a foundation in basic arts? Or are we supposed to argue from that point on for some kind of nationalistic “entertainment sovereignty,” as if the industry must be run entirely within Korea and only by Korean manpower? Of course, if domestic markets naturally form in various fields and allow labor and content to be supplied domestically, that would be more convenient. But there is still no need to pour tax money into a market that does not exist simply for the sake of that convenience.

In the end, “basic arts” is just as baseless and absurd a concept as “fine arts.” It was probably inspired by current-affairs talk along the lines of “basic science is important.” But the flow of art, in essence, is no different from the process of human evolution. When one genre prospers and then declines, and a new genre begins to gain popularity, the talents gathered in the declining genre move elsewhere and continue their survival. Given that, there is effectively no reason—except for academic purposes—to use tax money to support trends that have naturally declined and somehow prevent their extinction.

Not “purity,” “foundation,” or “diversity,” but simply a structure of “dependence”

There is no doubt that those making “basic arts”-style arguments are fundamentally from the left-wing political camp, or at least connected to it. And the left-wing political camp—especially in Korea—has followed a consistent strategy for decades. Whenever one line of argument does not work out, they change the “linguistic frame” and search for openings through new positioning.

From “high” to “pure,” and from “pure” again to “basic.” Naturally, there are many other examples. The “left” becomes “progressive,” “left-leaning citizens” become “awakened citizens,” and “people’s democracy” becomes “people come first.” There are many other techniques as well. Crushing defeat in outcomes gets glossed over in the name of “sincerity,” and since the word “power bloc” evokes factionalism, now they even bring out the strange, unheard-of word “power-ization.”

“Do not make the common mistake of denying your opponent’s claims. Instead, reframe. Frames beat facts. Always reframe. (omitted) If you forget everything else about frames, remember this one thing: ‘Once my frame is accepted in the discussion, everything I say becomes common sense.’ Why? Because thinking within an already accepted, stale frame is precisely what common sense is.” (From George Lakoff, Don’t Think of an Elephant!)

And “basic” will probably soon be discarded as well. That is because it is already becoming clear that the areas currently doing the most to spread Korean culture worldwide, while also generating real profits and becoming one pillar of the national economy, have no particular connection to those basic arts genres and their present condition. Support for basic arts has been steadily increased while advocates continually protest that it is still insufficient; yet with the system created in that supposedly “impoverished past,” Korea still reached No. 1 on the Billboard charts with BTS and SuperM, and won the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival—the world’s most prestigious film festival—with Parasite, while also succeeding at the box office in markets such as France and the United States where Korean film had not previously reached. At the very least, the justification once secured through the concept of “foundation” is clearly in the process of evaporating.

So what will the next frame be? Probably something like “diversity arts.” The idea would be that a market with content in a variety of directions is, by definition, healthy and satisfying. But does it really make sense to achieve “diversity” through public support? If there is genuine public demand, diversity is exactly what will inevitably follow. In the end, the discussion will return once again to the same point: that “diversity must be ensured unconditionally even if there is no demand.”

But even more dreadful than that word game is the anti-freedom, anti-market frame underlying that way of thinking.

“The Dutch Republic was where the art market was most vibrant in the 17th century. It led the Dutch Golden Age by dominating maritime trade, and achieved great success in clothing, timber, salt, wine, and flower exports, as well as in grain trading, shipbuilding, securities trading, publishing, and fishing. (omitted) The art market began to be commercialized and specialized. Unlike the Renaissance era, in which works were produced after advance contracts or depended on the financial support of a small number of patrons, works were made for an unspecified multitude of consumers. This growth of modern society provided the basis for artistic production to proceed according to the artist’s own subjectivity. The artist rose from artisan-technician to professional and came to be treated as an artist.” (Eun-kyung Kwak, Director of Corporate Culture at the Center for Free Enterprise (CFE), from the Liberal Arts Forum presentation “Art Seen Through the Market Economy”)

What the left seeks today is precisely to become the powerful Dutch elites of the pre-17th-century order. In other words, they want a structure in which they “commission works” from artists close to them, producing the kinds of works they want. In that sense, a line from Peter Shaffer’s play Amadeus suits the current situation well.

“It was fortunate that His Majesty yawned only once during The Marriage of Figaro. If the Emperor yawns three times, the opera closes that very day. If he yawns twice, it runs about a week. If he yawns once, then at least it can be performed nine times.”

The most fitting word for this is not “pure,” “basic,” or “diversity,” but simply “dependence.”

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Original title: [문화칼럼] 기초예술은 문화산업 ‘기초’가 되므로 국가가 지원해야 한다?

Author: Mun-won Lee

Date: 2019-11-15

Source: https://www.cfe.org/bbs/bbsDetail.php?cid=column&pn=11&idx=22057