The Language That Forecloses Endings

What The Song Company Tells Us About the Words We Use


When Language That Forecloses Endings - What The Song Company Tells Us About the Words We Use

The Song Company entered liquidation this week. Forty-two years. Founded in Sydney in 1984 by Charles Colman to fill what he saw as a gap in Australia's professional vocal music landscape. A company that performed repertoire spanning more than a millennium, toured nationally and internationally, and was widely regarded as Australia's premier professional vocal ensemble. 

The Board called it "the most responsible course of action." They thanked audiences and supporters for enabling "extraordinary artistic work and lasting cultural impact." They said they would work to ensure the process was handled "with care, transparency and respect for all involved." It is good language. Careful, honest, stewardly. What they didnt say: this is an ending,nd endings are part of how a living ecology works. 

In a post this week David Reece observed that everything the cultural sector says about itself, it says in atelic verbs.

Verbs with no completion built in, only continuation. The sector enables, supports, sustains. None of these can be finished. None can be arrived at. There is no moment at which the work is done, no natural point at which something new can begin. The language itself encodes perpetuity - and forecloses endings - before a single funding decision is made.

The Song Company didn't fail. It did extraordinary artistic work for 42 years and then ran out of road in a funding environment that has no mechanisms for anything other than continuation or collapse. There was no infrastructure to help it wind down with integrity at year 30, or year 35, when such a conversation might still have been generative. There was no safe language with which to raise the question. There was no funded pathway for the knowledge, the relationships, the repertoire legacy, to find a new home.

The Board's statement is an act of genuine stewardship in a system that offers no support for stewardship. That's worth acknowledging. It's also worth naming as insufficient - not as a criticism of this board, but as a critique of the ecology they were navigating.

Around 4,000 to 6,000 arts organisations enter the Australian registry every year. Nearly as many exit. This has always been true. Churn is not a symptom of sector failure. It is the structural reality of the sector. What is a symptom of failure - systemic, policy-level failure - is that we have built almost no infrastructure to make these transitions anything other than traumatic.

The Song Company's last program was Schütz's Der Schwanengesang. There is something in that choice that speaks to exactly the kind of cultural stewardship the sector needs more of: an organisation naming its own ending, in art, before the legal process required it to.

That's the kind of language we need to find. Not atelic. Not only continuation. Something with a télos in it - a completion, a legacy, a deliberate and honoured passing of the torch.

 

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Churn, Motion, and the Infrastructure We Never Built

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ARTS, CAPITAL AND THE LONG DEFEAT Part 3 of 3 What Would It Take?