The coronavirus crisis pulled the rug out from under the cultural field, almost overnight. Calendars were emptied and the future is uncertain.
Many people complain that they can't go to choir practice or play with the band. Many complain that they can't enjoy the culture together with others. Suddenly, music and dancing seem more important than ever. I wish I had realized how to enjoy it in March if I had known that I wouldn't be able to sing with others for half a year!
Many are in a state of distress after all their income has been taken away. The incomes of many professionals in the cultural sector have already been built up from small scraps, which in this situation do not make bureaucracy easy – urgent help may not be available.
Canceling the summer festivals was, of course, the expected solution in this situation. Still, it put a stop to the sadness. I traveled around Finland, my mind filled with emptiness. There were no crowds of people walking towards Olavinlinna, no people in the center of Kuopio, no Kaustinen Festival Park empty – no Villen pipo, no familiar structures. No people. Silence.
As I cycle through my mind, I think of everyone who suffers from the situation. The cultural sector has been blown up due to the coronavirus crisis; it supports a large number of people directly, and its effects affect many people.
Sound and light technicians, stage managers, silence is the order of the day – not all the world’s streaming services are helping this sector survive. Food and craft vendors who tour various festivals throughout the summer. Usually, accommodation booked a year in advance is empty.
The festival is like a magnet that draws people together. With the festival, even small towns get a season of their own during which revenues multiply compared to normal times. Will anyone even drive across Finland this summer? Will the favorite spots on the roads manage to stay afloat?
Culture is valuable in many ways. For many it brings livelihood, directly or indirectly, and for almost everyone it helps to move forward, comfort, and touch. During the first lockdown weeks, I watched opera online every day; it stirred up my feelings and often made me cry. With my hand on my heart, would you even be able to endure one day of isolation at home without music, dancing, movies, or a good book?
This summer, the calendar is empty without any plans. I am waiting for the moment when I can meet people face-to-face, when the Villen beanie is back up and music is playing everywhere, when I can enjoy being together, making music and dancing, and touching other people again.
Text:
Tove Djupsjöbacka
Freelance journalist and cultural worker, loyal visitor of the Kaustinen Folk Music Festival and former press officer
Photos:
Tove Djupsjöbacka's home album